


Not here – Not now – What was I thinking?

by teenybirdy



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Acceptance, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Don't copy to another site, F/F, Gender Identity, Genderfluid, Self-Acceptance, gender expression, maybe some smut, non binary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:27:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29239053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teenybirdy/pseuds/teenybirdy
Summary: Miranda is deathly allergic to freesias and things take an unexpected turn for her and Andy when a venue ignores the directive of "no freesias".
Relationships: Miranda Priestly & Andrea Sachs, Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs, Mirandy - Relationship
Comments: 108
Kudos: 385





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was found as an anon prompt on Tumblr's random Mirandy Fics. I've been toying with it for weeks and not getting very far, so to make sure we don't have a 25k one-shot, this will be split into 2 or 3 parts (depending on my ability to stop procrastinating).
> 
> Disclaimers: As always, don't own them, don't make money from them.

**Part 1: Not Here**

"Do I smell freesias?" Miranda glared at her.

"What? No–I–I specifically told them–" Andy tried to explain.

Miranda launched her fur coat, watching as the brunette caught it clumsily. "If I see freesias anywhere–" She slapped her leather gloves on top of the fur in the brunette's arms. "–I will be very disappointed."

Her hand moved up to her hair, smoothing it behind her ear as she brushed past the younger woman.

Sighing, Andy followed the older woman into the luncheon and sat down beside Nigel.

Eventually, once the food was eaten and plates whisked away, Nigel stood and made his way to the dais and started to speak about Runway. Her eyes scanned the room and with growing discomfort, she realised Christian and Jacqueline were sat together. She rolled her neck and felt instant relief as it popped.

Nigel finished off his small speech and introduced the editor, inviting her onto the dais. "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you, Miranda Priestly."

The room broke out into applause and all eyes turned to the elegant silver-haired woman as she moved gracefully through the room, nodding at people with a small smile as she passed them.

Andy found herself clapping along and watched as Nigel brushed air kisses against Miranda's cheeks as he handed her up onto the stage. He made his way across the room, turning just once to offer the editor a small bow at her words of thanks.

"Bonjour." Miranda started, offering a small airy, if somewhat nervous, chuckle. "Thank you very much for coming today, to help celebrate–" She paused for a moment to take a breath before continuing. "–our dear friend, James Holt." Her voice broke but the smattering of applause aimed at the designer hid it and when James stood and gave a small wave, all eyes turned to him.

All except Andy's.

She couldn't take her eyes off the woman on the dais. She noticed how her cheeks had started to pink, her eyes glistened and her breathing had changed.

Miranda raised her glasses in front of her eyes and squinted at the piece of paper in her shaking hands. "But before I talk to you about James and his many accomplishments–" She took another deep breath. "–I would like first to share some news with you. Uh–" She pinched her nose between two fingers. "–as many of you know, uh, recently Massimo Corteleoni has agreed to finance the expansion of the James Holt label, transforming the work of this visionary artist into a global brand, which is–" She paused, trying to find the words. –really an exciting enterprise." She turned her head and swiped under her eye before turning back to the room. "Runway and James Holt share many things in common. Chief among them, a commitment to excellence. And so, it should come as no surprise that when the time came for James to choose a new president for James Holt International, he chose from within the Runway family. And it's my great happiness today, to announce to you all, that that person is my friend and long time, esteemed colleague, Jacqueline Follet."

The applause was deafening and Andy felt Nigel deflate beside her even as her eyes remained on the editor. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Christian's jaw drop as Jacqueline smiled widely and accepted the congratulations. Finally, Nigel started clapping and on the dais, Miranda wore a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes as she clapped half-heartedly.

When things settled, Miranda tried to continue. "And now to the main event. The celebration of James Holt–"

"When the time is right, she'll pay me back," Nigel muttered.

"You sure about that?" Andy asked, still stunned by the events unfolding.

"No. But I hope for the best." Nigel bit his lip. "I have to." He whispered.

On the stage, Miranda was still speaking quietly, as she always did, but her breathing was becoming more laboured by the second. As she struggled to find the words to say what she wanted, her hands clutched to the solid lectern in front of her.

Andy watched as her hand raised to her chest, and she stopped to take some wheezing breaths. Realising there was something seriously wrong, she stood up and quickly moved forward to catch Miranda's eyes. They begged her to do something. Anything.

As she rushed closer loud whispers broke out and people stood to watch the events unfolding, eyes followed her every step until she moved beside the older woman. Her hand fluttered over Miranda's back, without actually touching it, after all, no-one ever touched Miranda Priestly.

"You okay, Miranda?" Andy asked hesitantly.

"Freesias." Miranda panted. "Can't breathe."

"Oh fuck!" Andy hissed. Her eyes roamed around the room, and she saw Irv smirking. She couldn't see any freesias in the many flower arrangements held throughout the room nor those surrounding the dais, but that didn't mean a thing. "She rummaged in her clutch and pulled out a small sleeve of Zyrtec, grateful she carried them to combat her own numerous allergies. She popped one free and stepping in front of Miranda, pushed it between her lips. "Swallow that." She grew concerned upon noticing Miranda's lips beginning to turn blue behind her pale pink lipstick. She saw Miranda's eyes widening as she choked on the small tablet. "Fuck this. Can you breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth for me, Miranda?"

Seeing Miranda continuing to struggle to breathe, without thinking, she scooped an arm under Miranda's knees, and ignoring the small squeak of protest from the editor, passed quickly through the room, now filled with raised voices. Someone called loudly for an ambulance or doctor to be called as she pushed past the people who'd stood to watch and were in her way. Eventually, she reached the closed doors and using the ball of her well-heeled foot, she kicked it open so it smashed against the wall with force.

Rushing through the foyer, she called out loudly. "Has anyone got a paper bag?" When she received no response, she tried in French. "Un sac en papier?" She heard the clattering of feet behind her and turning around, saw Nigel and Serena and various others, including James Holt, looking at her in concern. Stopping in her tracks, she heard Miranda wheeze and tears sprang into her eyes. "What can I do?" She pleaded for answers. "Please, she can't breathe."

Someone she recognised from Versace, but whose name she couldn't recall, rushed towards her, holding out an inhaler and assuring them it hadn't been used, not that Andy had any qualms about using it, even if it had. When it was passed to her she tried desperately to uncap it.

Serena snatched it from her hands and uncapped it before shaking it and handing it back to Andy. "You know what to do?" She asked.

Andy nodded mutely without taking her eyes off Miranda. "Breathe out gently, Miranda." She kept her voice soft and when Miranda cooperated, she pushed it between her lips. "Close your lips and breathe in slowly." She pressed firmly on the canister as Miranda inhaled. "Now hold your breath for five seconds." She pulled the inhaler free and hoped desperately it would work. She counted the seconds in her head. "Now breathe out, gently." She advised

Miranda's breathing was still laboured but had eased a little. Andy relaxed momentarily when she heard sirens from outside. Shifting the woman in her arms, holding her closer, she looked down and saw her lips were returning to a more normal hue and swallowed the lump in the back of her throat. She spotted two paramedics trotting towards her, but when they finally slid to a halt and tried to take Miranda from her, she held her tighter, unable to let her go.

It was Nigel who loosened her grip, his eyes soft and reassuring. "Let her go now, Six. You've done all you can for her and it's time for the professionals to take over." She watched as the paramedics lifted Miranda out of her arms and placed her on a gurney before settling an oxygen mask over her mouth and nose. She moved closer, placing a warm hand on Miranda's forearm. "I'll call the car and follow on shortly, okay?"

Pulling the mask free, Miranda looked tiredly up at her. "Thank you." She whispered before her eyes fell closed.

Nigel placed a reassuring hand on her back as she settled the oxygen mask back into place. "I'll go with her. Do what you need to." He nodded at her and she understood he wanted answers too.

**xxx**

Andy was on the warpath. Now knowing it was more than likely that Miranda was deathly allergic to freesias, she wanted to find out who, at the venue, ignored the directive that clearly stated no freesias.

The venue management blamed the florist and when she queried it with the company that organised the flowers, and after threatening to sue, she found out that they had received a call from the editor herself, stating that a single freesia was placed in every arrangement, especially the ones surrounding the dais.

Walking back into the room the luncheon had been held, she soon realised there were a few people that had their hand in the proceedings that day.

Remaining in the doorway, Andy caught Jacqueline's distinctive tinkling laugh followed by an uncanny impersonation of the editor. "Do not be absurd, Irving. A four hundred thousand dollar reshoot, because Annie is still carrying some extra weight after the baby, is nothing." She sniffed. "Emily, do I smell freesias? How very disappointing."

Christian and Irv's laughter followed. "Do it again." Christian hooted.

Pulling up her cell, Andy set it to record the next part. She wanted proof that she nor the venue or florist was to blame.

"Yes, a single freesia must be included in each arrangement. Am I reaching for the stars here? No, not really." Jacqueline impersonated the editor with uncanny ease before reverting to her usual self. "It was simple enough to make the call, seriously. Especially after you gave me the details of her hypersensitivity to certain flowers, Irv." She crowed gleefully.

"It's just a shame that assistant of hers stepped in." Irv frowned. "I may have to do something about her." He mused.

"Miranda Girl's harmless." Christian insisted. "She's so gullible and it's so easy to manipulate her into doing what you want." He gloated. "Last night, for example. A little wine, some flattery, followed by a kiss and she was putty in my hands."

Andy was furious. She may be naive in some ways, but she learned fast and she wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

"I still want to know how Miranda continues to be one step ahead, I honestly thought organising for that husband of hers to surprise her with divorce papers, after I found out about his extra-matital dalliance, would throw her off her game." Irv sighed and ran his fingers through his thinning hair. "And you, Jacqueline, why one earth did you take that job?" Irv seethed. "All my plans to be rid of her once and for all, ruined."

Jacqueline shrugged. "It was a very good offer, and as much as I hate Miranda, Nigel irritates me more than she does, so getting one over him was a plus. He's so smug. It's as if he thinks he's some kind of miracle worker for turning Miranda's ugly duckling into a swan."

"Do you think Miranda has a thing for that girl?" Irv asked.

"Non." Jacqueline scoffed. "Miranda would not want someone like that when there are far more beautiful women available to her." She pointed to herself. "She would have me in a heartbeat. I see the way she looks at me."

Christian nodded. "Her assistants are beneath her notice, Irv. Andy's a nice kid." He paused. "Far too nice for her. She's so straight and not at all adventurous. She's one of those that think missionary's the only position and I very much doubt she's ever thought about fucking her very female boss."

Their laughter combined once again and Andy closed her video app before turning away and creeping from the room as silently as she'd entered it.

**xxx**

Ordering the car, Andy had the driver take her to the hospital. As she travelled through the busy Paris streets, rather than taking in the many sights, she made calls to a select few, including a couple of members of the Elias Clarke board at Elias Clarke and Miranda's PR agent, Leslie, and explained, rather simply, what she had overheard.

The news was met with stunned disbelief and horror respectively by the two board members who favoured the editor, but Leslie was rather stoic about things and did her best to assure Andy that action would be taken to minimise the press so she would have time to call the twins and reassure them.

The next call connected with Emily. "How is she?" The redhead asked in place of a proper greeting.

"Nigel's with her but I'm on my way to the hospital now. The press will be looking for a comment. You know the drill." Andy sighed and ruffled her bangs.

"You're preaching to the choir, Andréa." Emily hissed. "I know better than anyone..."

"Stephen's filed for divorce too." Andy interrupted the beginning of Emily's tirade. "She found out last night and it's only a matter of time before it goes public."

"Oh, bollocks!" Emily could be heard rummaging and a faint snap told Andy she'd opened the lid on her little box of cheese cubes to combat the stress induced by that pearl of information. "He's such a dickhead, I mean seriously."

Andy could hear Emily chewing. "There's a Hershey bar in my top drawer. It would be good for you to eat something other than cheese cubes, Em." She grinned at the snort her words generated.

The shrill ring of the phone cut through the line. "And so it begins," Emily muttered. The next thing she knew, the line was dead. Pulling the phone away from her ear, she saw the call had disconnected.

She pulled up her texts and started to type quickly

**_Hey, my imps. Gimme a call when you see this, okay?_ **

She hit send as the driver pulled up outside the Emergency Room and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Andy leaned forward. "Merci beaucoup." She faltered.

"You are welcome, Miz." The man stated softly. "La Grande Dame will be fine, she is strong and stubborn, no?"

Andy found the words soothing and grinned. "Yeah, you're right. Thank you again." Opening the door for herself, she slipped from the car and moved sedately towards the automatic doors.

Entering the busy E.R, she saw multiple faces she recognised. In the middle of the crowd, Nigel stood with his hands held out entreatingly. "She's not receiving visitors. When she realised I was there she kicked me out."

"But–" Donatella started to bluster and the large bouquet in her hand shook precariously.

Nigel interrupted. "There's only one person on her approved visitor's list. Andy." He finally spotted her watching and nodded to her. "She's waiting to see you, Six. Get in there."

Sighing, Andy stepped beyond the fashionable crowd and pressed the buzzer to admit her into the emergency department properly. The door buzzed, and she pushed it open and stepped beyond the waiting room towards the waiting nurse.

"Andréa?" The nurse queried.

Nodding, Andy responded accordingly. "Oui. Alors, comment va-t-elle?" She asked. She was desperate to know how Miranda was.

"Elle va s'en remettre. Avec un peu de repos ce soir, elle pourra cracher le feu demain." The nurse chuckled as she led Andy down the corridor and stopped at the door. "Et voilà!"

Andy tried to translate, once again wishing she had taken the time to learn more than the basics. She had been finding it really hard to communicate and right now, it was frustrating. She knew from the tone, the nurse was telling her the older woman was okay. There was something about rest, fire and tomorrow. Sighing, she turned to the nurse. "Merci."

Taking a deep breath, she opened the door slowly and peeked around it. Her eyes widened to see Miranda sleeping. She looked so soft and peaceful. Closing the door silently behind her, she moved across the darkened room and stood at the foot of the bed, not wanting to disturb the older woman, but unsure of her next steps.

She noticed the medical chart in front of her and pulled it free, frowning at the unintelligible scrawl. She caught the odd word. Allergique. Asthme. Migraine.

Why did all doctors have such bad penmanship?

She put the words together and guessed Miranda had experienced an asthma attack caused by an allergic reaction to freesias. It was no longer surprising that Miranda has asked about the freesias before the luncheon. She would have caught the scent of the sweet blooms even if she couldn't see them.

And now, after everything, she was experiencing a migraine. Andy understood first hand how completely debilitating a migraine could be. She wouldn't even wish one on that little shit, Irv Ravitz, and it certainly explained why Miranda was sleeping.

Putting the chart back, she sat on the chair beside the bed and let her hand rest on top of Miranda's where it was curled up in a loose fist on the mattress.

Before that day, she had never touched the editor, but as she'd lifted her easily that afternoon a wave of fierce protectiveness had unfurled within her and she came to the sudden realisation that what she felt for the woman was more than she'd ever let herself contemplate before, despite Nate's words to her before the trip.

Despite everything, she unequivocally adored the silver-haired beauty.

Her cell vibrated and she looked down to see the shared number used by the twins. Standing up, she stroked the hair out of Miranda's face before tiptoeing away.

With her back turned, she didn't notice when the editor's eyes blazed open.

**xxx**

Andy spoke softly into her cell as she paced. "I swear, my loves, your mom is gonna be just fine. She just had a little allergy attack when some nasty shi–uh–person added freesias to the flower arrangements in the room we had lunch in." Andy listened to the twins as they finished each other's sentences. "Yes Cassidy, the person responsible will be reprimanded." She chuckled. "No, Caroline, as much as it's warranted, I will not punch them for you. Violence never solves anything." She listened a little more, before being able to get a word in. "Look, my loves, I really need to go but I'll speak to you real soon." She paused when the twins spoke. "I love you both too. Have a good day and cuddle Patty for me."

Disconnecting her cell, Andy took a few deep, calming breaths before turning around and walking towards the bed. She saw Miranda's eyes move under the lids and realised she was no longer asleep. Her own lips curved up into a small smile at the sight of the editor playing possum.

Sitting back down on the uncomfortable chair, she stretched slightly, her neck popping and cracking once more.

"You should see a chiropractor." Miranda's voice was low and husky.

"Mm, and when am I supposed to find the time to do that?" Andy spoke unconsciously. Remembering herself and who she was actually talking to, her hand clapped over her mouth.

Miranda chuckled, before wincing. "You are brave sometimes. It is often very much appreciated." She licked her lips. "May I have a drink?"

"I can't get you coffee, Miranda–" Andy explained gently. "–not with a migraine."

"A scotch then?" Miranda deadpanned.

"Haha, you're a funny lady," Andy asserted. "I had no idea just how hilarious you are."

Miranda smirked. "You'd be surprised." She sighed. "Water is fine, even if it is not my usual Pellegrino."

Andy stood and moved towards the bedside table on the opposite side of the bed to her chair, where a jug of iced water and a glass waited.

Miranda sat up, using her elbows for leverage. Seeing her struggling, Andy arranged the pillows behind her so she could sit up comfortably.

"Thank you, Andréa," Miranda whispered.

Andy offered her a glass of water. "That's the second time you've said that today. The third since we met."

"Mm," Miranda hummed non-committedly, sipping at the water and grimacing slightly.

"I can text Nigel or Serena and have them bring some things for you if you want." Andy offered.

Miranda glanced down at the ugly hospital gown she wore. "Acceptable." She breathed.

Andy turned her focus back onto her cell as she stepped back around the bed and tapped out a quick message. She received a thumbs up in response from Serena, having decided that Nigel, although concerned, was no doubt still hurting and needing to lick his wounds.

With her focus no longer on the editor as she made a list of things Miranda needed, Andy jumped when Miranda eventually spoke.

"You thought I didn't know?" Miranda asked.

Andy's head rose and her brows knit in confusion.

"I've known what was happening for quite some time. It just took me a little while to find a suitable alternative for Jacqueline. And that James Holt job was just so absurdly overpaid that of course, she jumped at it." She rolled her eyes.

"To get one over on Nigel too," Andy stated warily, perching back on the chair. "I overheard her tell Irv and Christian as much."

Miranda shook her head and sighed, regret flashing briefly in her eyes. "So, I just had to tell Irv that Jacqueline was unavailable." She exhaled. "Truth is, there's no one that can do what I do. Including her. Any of the other choices would have found that job impossible and the magazine would have suffered. Especially because of the list."

Andy was even more confused, having no idea what was coming and from the reality that Miranda was actually explaining herself.

"The list of designers, photographers, editors, writers, models, all of whom were found by me, nurtured by me and have promised me they will follow me whenever and if ever I choose to leave Runway. So he reconsidered." Miranda stated, looking pleased.

"Oh." Andy breathed.

"But I was very, very impressed by how intently you tried to warn me. I never thought I would say this, Andréa, but I really–I see a great deal of myself in you. You can see beyond what people want, and what they need and you can choose for yourself."

"I don't think I'm like that. I couldn't do what you did to Nigel, Miranda. I couldn't do something like that." Andy felt tears forming in her eyes.

Miranda smiled a little indulgently at her. "You already did. To Emily."

"That's not what I–" She shook her head. "–no, that was different. I didn't have a choice." Andy insisted.

Miranda was growing impatient at the denial and her words showed it. "No, no, you chose. You chose to get ahead. You want this life, those choices are necessary."

"But what if this isn't what I want? I mean–what if I don't wanna live the way you live?" Andy asked.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Andréa. Everybody wants this. Everybody wants to be us." Miranda waved a hand between them as if what they had actually meant something instead of her just being the powerful woman's lowly assistant, despite wanting to be more than that.

"No." Andy asserted once again. "I don't ever want to be at a point in my life where people use the fact I'm allergic to things against me." She closed her eyes. "Who'd seriously choose that? But worse, what kind of person would go out of their way to intentionally harm someone that way? What would push them to such extremes?"

"Money, Andréa," Miranda husked. "Greed." She sighed. "It's as simple as that. One of the seven deadly sins." She settled back into the pillows further and continued to speak. "I had hoped when I first caught the scent of the freesias that they were held elsewhere else within the venue, but upon sitting down, the smell overwhelmed my senses. But I knew when I got on the dais, that I was in trouble, and yet I told myself as long as I got through my speech, I could handle everything else afterwards."

"I know," Andy admitted.

"I saw you watching, your eyes expressing growing concern that for a time hid the disappointment of my actions," Miranda added. "I found an anchor in your watchful gaze, and it kept me afloat, as I did last night before I pushed you away."

"Miranda, I–" Andy didn't know what to say.

"You surely saved my life today and I am vastly aware of the depth of gratitude I owe you. I am indebted to you." Miranda stated.

"You owe me nothing, Miranda. What I do for you, I do because I care. That's all." Andy tried to reassure the woman. She expected nothing from her.

"There is a scripture in the Talmud that says anyone who saves a life is as if he saved an entire world. But there are other traditions too, that one takes permanent responsibility for the person they save." Miranda pursed her lips thoughtfully. "I quite like the idea of that permanence."

"What do you mean?" Andy queried breathlessly.

To door opened, admitting the doctor and Miranda turned her attention away from Andy, much to her chagrin.

**xxx**

The doctor reassured Miranda she would be discharged the following morning and insisted that the nasal cannula she wore, offering oxygen, was for the best and that sleep would aid the best possible recovery.

The reason for the unexpected attack was put down to her nose and throat becoming inflamed, which set off a chain reaction that caused her immune system to overreact and narrow the lower airways to her lungs.

When he finally spoke about her migraine, Miranda blushed and insisted it was no longer bothering her and yet, to Andy, the tightness in her eyes showed the small lie. However, she wasn't brave enough to call her out on it.

When the doctor left, orderlies quickly arrived and wheeled Miranda into a private suite. When she was finally settled in the room, Miranda's eyes closed and she relaxed again.

The silence thickened and Andy fidgeted nervously. Sensing the editor was awake, she spoke quietly. "You know, I always wanted a sweet-smelling garden," she admitted. "But I have shocking hayfever and it's made worse by certain plants and flowers. Lilacs, magnolia and gardenias especially. My allergies are generally manageable though, but it's why I carry a supply of Zyrtec."

"It has been a long time since I had such a reaction. My demand for no freesias is partly responsible for that." Miranda admitted.

Andy sighed. "I'm your assistant and even I didn't know just how bad it could be. Emily never mentioned–"

"That's because I do not speak of it. I am not very comfortable with people knowing of my weaknesses so they assume it is simply another of my numerous quirks." Miranda kept her eyes closed. "How did this happen?" She mused.

"Irv told Jacqueline, who then took it upon herself to impersonate you and demand the freesias," Andy explained.

Miranda's head turned sharply. "No, that cannot be–"

Andy placed her cell phone on Miranda's stomach, her video app open. "I'm not lying, Miranda. I wouldn't, not about something like this."

Sighing, Miranda clutched the cell and squinting at the screen pressed play. Her lips began to purse as the recording ran on the screen. "I cannot believe he would stoop–" Miranda started. "–what am I saying, of course, he would. He's the only one, other than HR, who could easily access my Elias Clarke personal records."

"We'll get him back. I promise." Andy whispered when Miranda tossed the phone back at her. She saw the disbelief in Miranda's eyes. "Charles and Tom already know. Leslie is working on downplaying it to the press. Em is fielding the incoming calls like a pro, offering up the standard no comment." She smirked. "And just so you know, it pays to be nice sometimes. I have a contact in IT who is trawling the network access logs linked to your employee records. If Irv can be found to have accessed it, along with the recording, he'll pay for this–this malevolence. " Andy sniffed, unable to hold back her tears. Turning her face away, she closed her eyes as her head rested against the back of the chair. "He could have fucking killed you, Miranda."

"I didn't though." Miranda breathed. "Thanks to you."

**xxx**

Time passed slowly, with Andy sprawled in the chair and Miranda having finally settled into a light sleep. They had not spoken after Andy's tears and whispered words about the possibility of her having died.

The door swinging open had Andy's eyes blazing open and she saw Serena standing, a holdall and small tote in hand and garment bag hooked over the crook of her arm. She had her hand raised against the nurse's protestations that her it was not visiting hours.

"Querida, tell this woman to go away." Serena's jaw was clenched.

Before Andy could even open her mouth to speak, Miranda spoke in rapid-fire French and the nurse fled. Andy honestly had no idea what was said but the way the nurse ran off showed it had been rather cutting. She rubbed her face hard and tried to speak again, but her throat was sore from holding back her tears and her voice came out as a croak.

"You look done in, Andy. You should go back to the hotel. I can stay." Serena offered.

"No." Both women spoke simultaneously and catching one another's gaze, lost themselves in it.

Serena shrugged and moved more fully into the room. She placed the garment bag on the back of the bathroom door before putting the fashionable Gucci hold-all onto the bed by Miranda's feet and opening it. "We have pyjamas, your makeup bag and toiletries and something comfortable for you to wear tomorrow, Miranda." She turned to Andy. "I have a change of clothes for you too, Querida. Nigel said you wouldn't leave, it seems he is right, yet again." Her lips quirked up in a small smile. "This bag contains some bottles of Pellegrino." She lifted the tote before setting it down on the floor.

"Thank you, Serena," Miranda whispered.

If the Brazillian was in any way surprised by the words, she hid it well. "You're welcome, Miranda. I am only sorry it took me so long. I was unnecessarily detained by Mr Ravitz."

Miranda scowled. "Wanting news of my demise, I assume."

Andy snorted and Serena chuckled. "I told him I was not at liberty to discuss such things, since I have a fairly ironclad NDR in my employee contracts with Runway."

"Mm, a valid response," Miranda stated. "He should know better than to ask."

"Others are waiting for news, including Donatella. They expected Andy to go out and provide an update before you were moved." Serena rolled her eyes knowing that would never have happened. "May I advise her that you will be fine?"

Miranda sighed. "Pass me my cell."

Andy stood, and rummaging in the clutch Nigel had grabbed when things went to shit, pulled out Miranda's cell. She passed it to the woman and sank back into her chair, watching as Miranda started typing furiously.

"There. All done. Tella has been advised all is well and to enjoy her evening." Miranda glanced at Andy. "It is the Dior party tonight, yes?" She queried.

"Yeah." Andy agreed.

"Well, one good thing has come from this." Miranda grinned devilishly. "At least I have one less nightmare to contend with." She turned her gaze back to Serena. "Have Nigel take my place."

Nodding, Serena agreed good-naturedly. "Of course."

"You can leave, Serena," Miranda told her.

"We'll see you tomorrow," Andy spoke softly. "We'll be out of here before the flight home." She hid a yawn behind her hand when Serena stalked from the room. Easing herself back up out of the chair, she turned to Miranda. "I'm going to change."

"Mm, fine." Miranda hummed, her eyes following her movements as she started rummaging through the bag and found the only pair of jeans she'd brought to Paris and one of her soft, worn Northwestern t-shirts. Serena had even provided clean underwear, a pair of her socks and some ballet flats.

With her arms full of clothes, she moved towards the ensuite.

"Don't be too long," Miranda told her quietly.

Andy sighed softly. "Yes, Miranda." She closed the bathroom door and looked longingly towards the shower. Still feeling the effects of the alcohol from the night before, she settled for washing her face free of makeup and tying her long hair into a loose ponytail. She changed quickly, leaving her feet bare, before passing from the room and back to her spot beside the older woman.

She glanced at the editor and realised she had used the time to change into a pale blue cotton nightshirt. Her face was also makeup-free, as it had been the evening before, but this time her eyes weren't red and glassy from the tears she'd spilt, but bright and watching her cautiously.

**xxx**

They settled back into a comfortable silence, with Andy reclining back in the chair.

Miranda had declined offers of food but was occasionally sipping water, so Andy wasn't overly concerned, except she felt bad because she was starting to feel a little faint from hunger. Her stomach grumbled loudly and she blushed furiously when Miranda's head snapped to the side to glare at her.

"Sorry," Andy mumbled, embarrassed.

"When did you last eat?" Miranda demanded.

Andy frowned. "Uh–"

"It is not a difficult question. I'm not asking you to describe string theory."

"Oh, that's easy." Andy grinned. "Simply put, string theory proposes that the fundamental constituents of the universe are tiny, one-dimensional, vibrating strings."

Miranda pursed her lips. "Well, thank you Ms Einstein-Sachs." She rolled her eyes. "But that doesn't really answer my question. When did you last eat? You have been losing weight and I find it displeasing."

"You find it–but you said I was fat–" Andy sputtered.

Miranda closed her eyes. "I may have misspoken" She admitted. "You have always been suitably proportioned."

"Oh," Andy sat back in surprise, her hand rubbing at her stomach. "I ate rather well last night, but I didn't eat much today. I found I hadn't the appetite."

Miranda pressed the button to rouse the nurse and when she appeared, asked for something to eat. "Je veux manger."

"D'accord." The nurse agreed, leaving as quickly as she appeared.

Miranda turned her eyes on Andy again. "You shall start eating regularly, Andréa." She looked away again and began muttering. "What on Earth was she actually thinking by taking me seriously? Damn it, I should not have been so cruel."

"I was thinking about the fact I'm not Runway material." Andy sighed. "It wasn't just you, you know."

Miranda returned her eyes to her and arched an eyebrow waiting for more.

"Emily calls me a fat cow at least once a week but at least she no longer adds unfashionable to the insult." She swallowed. "Nigel once told me six is the new fourteen. And then there's the models and designers. They aren't particularly nice to me either. The only ones who have treated me respectably are Donatella, James Holt and Valentino." Andy brushed her fingers through her bangs. "You can't imagine just how demoralising it is to be criticised for being a healthy weight, to not have beautiful clothing designed with people like me in mind. I mean, it's not that I'd wear some of the rubbish I've seen this week. Half of it is absolutely monstrous or plain ridiculous."

Miranda snorted out a bark of laughter. "There's a reason I stick to the classics, as I realise you do too but I can also see the artistry behind the designs. However, I am in full agreement that some designers tend to lean towards the ridiculous." She glanced at Andy, her eyes holding amusement and affection. "It's part of the reason why I love this world. It allows creative souls to let their imaginations run free."

The nurse entered the room, holding a tray which held some kind of salad, what Andy assumed was chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans and a watery jus, half a baguette, a small wedge of cheese and a cellophane-wrapped chunk of what looked to be cake.

Miranda grimaced as the tray was set over her knees and she looked aghast at the offerings. "I'd kill for a pastrami on rye." She muttered. "And a searing hot latte."

"Tomorrow," Andy promised. "As soon as we are home, I'll head over to PJ Bernstein's. His Pastrami sandwiches are to die for." Her stomach rumbled again and she blushed. "I'll leave you to eat and head to the cafe..."

"You are going to eat some of this," Miranda interjected. "The bread and cheese, and the pain d'épice."

"Pain d'épice?" Andy queried haltingly. "What's that?"

"Gingerbread." Andy's eyes lit up causing Miranda to chuckle before she cut into the bread, slathered it with the butter and soft cheese and passed it, held within a napkin, to her. "Only after you've eaten this sandwich, Andréa." Miranda dug into the salad, cutting it up and placing small morsels into her mouth before chewing methodically and swallowing. "Terrible." She muttered darkly. "Tasteless."

Andy all but inhaled her sandwich in six bites and dabbed her mouth before sipping at a bottle of water. She fidgeted nervously until Miranda sighed and offered up the dessert. Unwrapping it quickly, Andy bit into it, expecting a beautifully moist gingerbread, instead, she got something that was incredibly dry and virtually tasteless. Unable to stop herself, she spat the contents into the napkin, folding it neatly before rising to her feet and depositing it into the bin. "Oh God, that's the worst fucking shit I've ever tasted." Looking up, she caught Miranda's lips beginning to purse, and yet, her eyes sparkled with laughter. "Pain d'épice, more like pain de merde."

"Oh, so you know cuss words, but not the basics." Miranda's lips twitched. "How unsurprising." She deadpanned.

"I read an article that said swearing in a foreign language is the first step to fluency." Andy sat back and grinned smugly. "And the average American cusses about 80 to 90 times per day. Think about it, Miranda, it would be weird if every time I bumped into something or fell over I said "Oh, no, it hurts, and I'm so angry right now!" instead of hearty "motherfucker!"

"Andréa, really? That's quite enough of that." Miranda insisted. And yet, when Andy grinned at her, she saw how her eyes shone with laughter.

Andy chuckled. "Admit it, there is something about letting out a well-timed expletive."

"I shall admit no such thing." Miranda laughed lightly, shaking her head. "You are quite ridiculous."

"I know," Andy smirked. "Makes life interesting though." Her cell chimed and looking down, her smile widened and she tapped out a response.

"I assume that's the cook?" Miranda queried.

"The twins," Andy admitted without thinking.

"Oh, really?" Miranda's tone was icy and Andy looked up and saw her displeasure. "So, tell me, how long have you been conversing with my daughter's, Andréa?"

Andy knew anything less than honesty wouldn't fly. Sighing, she set her phone down and tugged her fingers. "Since shortly after Harry Potter." She admitted. "They originally text me to say thank you, and from that, they seemed to just want to have someone answer their questions about your work, asking if you were busy, had taken time to eat lunch or would be home for dinner. Then they started asking me about myself, the books I'd read or movies I enjoyed."

"So you became friends with my daughter's, to what end?" Miranda demanded. "What do you expect from this connection? What reward?"

"No–nothing. I don't expect anything." Andy was hurt by Miranda's words. "They are beautiful little girls and their intelligence amazes me. They are brilliant individuals and I've–I care about them, very much so." She swallowed her growing anger and stood. She turned away and stepped towards the door. Reaching for the handle, she paused and without looking back, spoke firmly. "You know, you are all worthy of kindness, without expectation of some kind of reward. I'm sorry that's not something you are used to, but I won't change who I am to fit in with those sycophants that simply act a certain way and kiss your ass."

She opened the door, but before she'd taken a step, Miranda's voice called out to her. "Don't go." Her voice broke on the final word. Turning, she watched Miranda take a shuddering breath "I heard you reassuring them I was okay. I heard you tell them you love them. I want–I wish–" She trailed off, her eyes scrunched closed.

Growing tired of everything, Andy barked out a demand for answers. "What, Miranda?"

"Nothing. It is unimportant." Miranda turned her head away.

"Look at me," Andy demanded.

Miranda shook her head, still keeping her face turned away.

Andy strode back to the bed, but instead of sitting back in the chair, with Miranda's head turned away from her, she strode to the other side of the bed and tapped Miranda on the nose so her eyes blazed open. In their depths, she saw something she never expected to see.

Sadness.

Softening, she perched on the edge of the bed and waited. When Miranda simply continued to look at her, she offered a wry smile. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I–I–" Miranda stumbled over her words. "–" Her jaw clenched and she ground her teeth together.

"Quite frankly, I've got all night." Andy reminded her. "You know, you can tell me anything, without fear of judgement."

"Damn you." Miranda spat, clearly unhappy about being put on the spot and pushed for answers.

Inhaling sharply in surprise, Andy straightened her back. "I beg your pardon?"

Miranda sighed. "I apologise. I didn't mean–" Her fingers fiddled with the bare skin where her wedding band had sat until the day before. "It's just–you are so stubborn and–"

Andy knew Miranda was scared, she could see the fear in her eyes. She waited patiently for Miranda to continue, knowing that the editor would get there eventually.

"–you have this weird habit of being yourself, all that time. But unlike some people, I rather like that about you." Miranda admitted. "And I hope–I've wished to–it is the reason I brought you to Paris over Emily."

"Explain." Andy breathed, unable to stop the word.

"Because you are–I am–" Miranda faltered once more, still uncertain about voicing whatever it was. "I–I appreciate who you are and I want–there is a part of me that wants you to love me too."

"You want me to–no way?" Andy exploded.

Tears pooled in Miranda's eyes and a single pearl flowed down her cheek, leaving a trail in its wake. Unconsciously, Andy's hand rose and she did the one thing she hadn't dared to do the evening before, she swept the tear away with her thumb and pulled the older woman into her arms.

Andy had never hugged Miranda, she hadn't even contemplated its possibility, but she didn't want to just place a hand on her shoulder, or an arm around it. She wanted the comfort she offered willingly to mean something, she didn't want Miranda to believe her feelings were unrequited.

Surprisingly, Miranda clutched the back of her t-shirt as her tears flowed, leaving her shoulder wet and Andy's hand began to run soothing circles against her back.

She wanted to be there for Miranda, to show empathy, and, if possible, strengthen their relationship. And yet at the same time, she was uncertain how to act or what to say without any awkward back-patting and less than inspiring platitudes. She wouldn't say, "there, there, it's okay." when really she didn't have a fucking clue if it ever would be.

Not after what Miranda had admitted.

She continued to hold Miranda close, letting her know, without words, she was there and time passed, with the editor's cries turning to small hiccupping sobs until her breathing eventually evened out, with little puffs of air escaping from her lips and pulsing softly against Andy's neck causing her to shiver as the fine hairs on the back of her neck stood to attention.

With innate gentleness, Andy tried to prise Miranda's hands from her t-shirt to settle her back against the pillows, but unable to do so, she inched herself so she was lying down with Miranda curled up against her chest still clutching at the fabric at her shoulder.

"I love you too," Andy whispered.

**xxx**

Andy felt the slight movement of someone stiffening against her, and it jarred her into wakefulness. She remembered the final part of her night, lying down beside the editor and finally letting her eyes fall closed.

Unwilling to open her eyes and see Miranda's distaste, she kept her eyes closed and tried to control her breathing so it would seem like she was still sleeping. She felt delicate fingers trail over her cheeks and across her eyebrows and couldn't stop her face from scrunching up.

"I know you are awake." Miranda's voice was hoarse and still held the remnants of sleep. "I can see your eyes moving beneath their lids and I can hear the whirl of that brilliant brain of yours."

Feeling awkward, Andy opened her eyes and Miranda's hand fell from her face as she let her usual mask fall into place.

"Uh–I–I should–" Andy scooted away without realising how close she was to the edge of the bed and fell onto the floor, landing hard. "Ouch, fucking hell." She yelped.

She sat up, rubbing her shoulder where she had landed on it and heard the low chuckle coming from the woman in the bed. She glared up at Miranda.

Miranda managed to get her amusement under control. "You are quite ridiculously cute, Andréa but that language is rather unbecoming of such a beautiful woman."

Andy's jaw dropped at Miranda's words. She continued to sit there, gaping, no doubt rather unattractively, up at the woman.

Finally gathering her wits, Andy hoisted herself back to her feet, pulling the chair towards her as she sank down into it, her eyes never leaving Miranda's. She noticed the faint blush rising up her cheeks and was stunned by the beauty of it.

Miranda was so beautifully human.

Tearing her eyes away, she looked down at her hands and tugged the fingers of her right with her left nervously. She wondered if they would address the elephant in the room or if the admission from the night before would be swept under the carpet.

The door opened and a new nurse entered the room and started to talk to Miranda in rapid-fire French and received a curt "oui," in response. Miranda lay back down against the pillows and her temperature was taken before the nurse connected a device to her finger to measure her pulse. The nurse nodded twice and rattled off some further instructions. Miranda extended her left arm, palm up, and a blood pressure cuff was attached and her pressure quickly taken. The nurse jotted down the results on Miranda's chart before leaving the room.

"Miranda, about last night, I–" Andy started, unable to stop herself.

"My breakfast should be arriving shortly." Miranda interrupted. "Then the doctor will come and I shall hopefully be discharged. If you wish, you may go to the cafeteria." She flicked her hand dismissively.

"Yes, Miranda." Andy sighed and standing up, she grabbed the bag of toiletries and clothes and moved to the bathroom. She quickly stripped and changed her underwear before realising the only clothes she had, other than the gown she had worn the day before, was the clothes she had slept in. She dressed back in the jeans and t-shirt and loosened her hair from its messy up-do before she brushed it and tied it up in a high ponytail. She washed her face with the cleanser provided and decided against using any makeup.

Moving back out of the room, Miranda kept her face averted and she left the room to make her way to the small hospital cafeteria. Ordering coffee and a croissant, she sat down and ate slowly before sitting back in the chair and drinking her coffee, delighting in the warmth the hot beverage provided.

Andy knew there was much she wanted to say to Miranda and hoped she would be given the chance to bare her soul to the woman, and yet, she had to admit, if only to herself, she was nervous.

What if Miranda had only declared her feelings believing they would push her away for good?

Andy understood that would not be a possibility, not know she knew there was a chance for more.

What if Miranda believed her lack of response was a rejection?

Well, she could certainly put that right, given time and the opportunity to do so.

Andy knew she would give Miranda all the time she needed, to sort the fiasco from the day before and rid herself of Stephen once and for all. She told herself she would be patient.

Finishing her coffee, she cleared the debris of her meal away before ambling slowly back towards the editor's room, where she hoped the older woman would be open to having an honest conversation before real life got in the way once more.

Knocking on the door to the hospital room, Andy waited to be told she could enter and when she heard Miranda call out softly, opened the door and peered around the jamb.

Miranda was sat in the chair she had made her own the night before, dressed in a beautiful plum Donna Karan wrap-around dress with her favourite Prada pumps on her feet.

She looked flawless, her hair and makeup perfect. Unable to resist, Andy let out a breathy "wow" and was provided with a small smirk.

"Andréa," Miranda breathed. "You ate?" She questioned.

The question threw Andy. "Uh–yea–yes." She stuttered.

"Mm, good." She pointed to the second chair. "Sit, we need to discuss the schedule." She insisted.

Andy pulled her cell out of her pocket and launched the schedule. Running her free hand through her bangs, she squinted at the screen. "You've missed breakfast with Vera, but I asked Nigel to attend on your behalf. I told him to take Jocelyn to gather any notes."

Miranda ran her finger across her bottom lip pensively and hummed her approval.

"I have asked that the Butler service at the hotel pack our bags and that should be completed before our return to the hotel." Andy licked her lips. "Your meeting with James Holt and Jacqueline has been pushed back until next Friday. Emily has organised a lunch meeting at Pastis and should you wish, there's room to move it."

"Acceptable," Miranda leaned forward. "Now how about the emails." Miranda

"Oh." Andy launched the email app and quickly accessed Miranda's inbox. "The twins have confirmed they will arrive home on time and that they are looking forward to seeing you. Patricia has apparently missed you very much." She smiled softly when Miranda looked pleased but frowned at the email following that. "Uh–" She ran her fingers through her bangs before speaking "–Stephen has requested you sign the divorce papers immediately. He has also asked that you replace the BOSS Oxford's since your "damn dog" decided to use one of them as her own personal chew toy." Her lips twitched and she fought against her bubbling laughter as she shook her head. "Fucking idiot." She muttered the insult under her breath.

"Quite." Miranda caught her attention. "Fuck him and his ugly fucking shoes." She enunciated the cuss words clearly.

Andy sat back, a little shocked. That word, the low, vehement way she uttered the word fuck, sent a jolt of desire roaring through her. Swallowing hard, she attempted to bring moisture to her suddenly dry throat and mouth.

As if she knew of Andy's reaction, Miranda blushed. "Perhaps, on further reflection, you are correct about well-timed expletives, Andréa."

Andy relaxed. "I have another round to add on top of your very apt fuck Stephen and his ugly fucking shoes."

"Go on." Miranda urged gently.

Andy leaned forward and caught Miranda's eyes. "Fuck Irv." She spat his name as if it was a profanity. "Fuck Jaqueline." Her tone was scathing as she mentioned the French woman. "Fuck Christian–"

"You'd know all about that." Miranda interrupted, her lips pursed in displeasure.

"–and fuck freesias." Andy continued. Her head rose sharply as Miranda's words registered in her mind and she scowled. "Yeah, well, we all make mistakes. I made the assumption he was a decent human being. Instead, he plied me with wine, which I've never had a head for, offered me compliments, which after almost a year of criticism was rather a nice change and–"

"And then bedded you." Miranda cut in.

"–and then I found out just what a selfish rat bastard he truly is." Andy continued. "I shouldn't have let myself go there–"

Miranda spoke over her softly. "About last night, I shouldn't have said what I did."

"–especially since I'm not exactly–" Andy frowned looked down.

"I–I know you are–" Miranda tried to explain.

"–straight." The word was spoken by both of them simultaneously.

Once again, Andy's head shot up and she caught Miranda's eyes. "I'm not." She breathed.

"Not what?" Miranda asked uncomprehendingly. Her words must have finally filtered through Miranda's brain because her eyes widened in disbelief. "You're not?" She queried.

"No," Andy admitted, exhaling a sharp breath. "I don't particularly subscribe to any labels, I'm not canned goods after-all."

Miranda snorted in amusement before gathering herself. "But you lived with that scruffy boy and slept with that smarmy rat."

"So? You've been married twice." Andy pointed out. "To men." She added.

"Would you tell me more about yourself?" Miranda requested hesitantly.

Andy smiled. "Sure. Where would you like me to start?"

**xxx**

Miranda sat back. "I want to know everything." She admitted.

"Well, there's not much to know." Andy sighed and settled further into the chair she was sat in.

"Can you tell me something no one else knows?" Miranda asked.

"Oh, well.–" Andy stood and poured a glass of water. She swallowed deeply. "Over the years, I've fought against who I am. There are times I am not quite comfortable in my own skin."

"Explain this discomfort," Miranda asked.

"There's a reason I've always preferred being called Andy." Andy sat down and glanced at the older woman, watching her reactions closely. "I've always hated my name and there are times I don't feel it quite fits who I am. Then there's the fact I generally prefer to dress for comfort, usually in jeans or pants and a shirt rather than dresses or skirts. As you are aware, I'm terrible in heels, although I've admittedly gotten better at wearing them since working at Runway." She grinned ruefully and shook her head. "I can't explain it. I've wondered sometimes if I'm gender-fluid but that doesn't seem to fit. It's not something I generally express and I don't have an issue with my pronouns, with my parents calling me their daughter, or being called someone's girlfriend."

"Gender-fluid possibly works," Miranda stated. Her lips twitched up into a small smile. "Although that's simply another label." She caught Andy's eyes. "The great thing about life is that you are free to express yourself how you wish and as much as you'd like to. You can deviate from the usual gender roles given at birth. And I promise you now, on the days you struggle being Andréa, I will attempt to call you Andy and send you off to the closet to find suitable attire that will make you feel more comfortable in yourself."

"What would people say?" Andy whispered, a little teary-eyed by the other woman's understanding.

"Nothing." Miranda insisted. "The fashion industry is a forgiving place and will allow you to make the choices that are suitable for you and you alone."

Andy leaned forward. "But I won't be part of this industry forever and–"

"André–" Miranda paused and glancing at her sighed. "Andy, you will continue to have a place in this world long after you leave Runway." She shook her head. "Don't tell me you shall forget us all as soon as you leave us?"

"I could never–no!" Andy exclaimed. "No, I could never forget you."

"Are you sure about that?" Miranda kidded. "I'm sure there are many people who would be glad to see the back of me."

"Miranda, don't even joke about that." Andy scolded. "After yesterday–" A small sob broke through. She was just so tired and overwhelmed she couldn't control her stupid emotions and the stubborn woman opposite was glaringly oblivious to how much she actually cared, which after everything, was also stupid. "God, you can be so dense." She sniffed back her tears. "Why can't you grasp that I actually care? You see everything that happens at your magazine, but you can't recognise that, just as I love your beautiful girls, I love you too."

Miranda's eyes widened and her mouth opened and closed as if she couldn't find the words. Andy bowed her head, expecting to hear Miranda's cold words of dismissal, as her tears continued to flow. A pair of easily recognisable Prada heels came into view.

"Look at me, Andy." Miranda's voice was insistent.

Andy raised her eyes and saw Miranda's shining down on her affectionately. Hope flared within her. "Yes, Miranda?"

Miranda's hand stroked the hair from Andy's face. "We will discuss this further, but not here."

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2: Not Now**

They travelled in comfortable silence towards the hotel and Andy couldn't stop herself from casting fleeting glances at the beautiful silver-haired women sat beside her. She wondered when Miranda would deem it suitable to discuss her words, and what she would say in response to them.

Although she could occasionally read Miranda, she was also such an enigma and never did what was expected.

She watched as Miranda tapped on her keypad forcefully and wondered what had caused her ire. The answer came as if her idle thought had flagged in Miranda's mind.

"The police are waiting at the hotel to speak to us," Miranda stated quietly. "The florist reported the events due to silly fear over being sued." She sighed. "No attempt was made to conceal the incoming number to her cell."

"Well, that's dumb," Andy muttered.

"Jacqueline has never been particularly intelligent," Miranda added. "Are you aware, acts of violence causing zero to eight days incapacity to work can be punishable by three years' imprisonment and a fine of 45,000 Euros?" She asked.

"What's that in US Dollars?" Andy frowned, unable to convert the currency

"Around fifty-five thousand dollars." Miranda shook her head. "The money is truly unimportant though, André–Andy." She amended quickly.

Andy was surprised by her words about the money, but couldn't say why. Then again, she'd seen Miranda spend more on a single piece of jewellery so it was unlikely Jacqueline would have an issue.

"You can call me Andréa if you want. I kinda like the way you say it." Andy blushed and ducked her head. "Do you want her to go to prison?" Andy asked curiously.

"I never even considered it," Miranda admitted. "I've been telling myself it was just an ill-timed prank and not a real attempt to cause me harm."

Andy's head shot up and she scoffed. After what she heard the day before, she knew it was exactly that. Irv and Jacqueline may not have wanted to kill Miranda, but they wanted to cause her distress and embarrass her. Andy turned slightly to face her. "May I ask you something else?"

Miranda bowed her head in a nod of acceptance. "You may." Her lips twitched.

"Did I embarrass you yesterday?" Andy asked softly. "When I picked you up and–"

"No." Miranda's tone was firm. "You acted quickly to help me. I'm extraordinarily grateful and not at all embarrassed."

"What about the fact that so many people saw?" Andy asked.

Miranda smiled at her. "Are you sure it's my potential embarrassment that concerns you or your own? She teased.

"I'm not–no–" Andy blustered until Miranda's soft lips pressed against hers stopping all coherent thought.

The kiss was brief and as it broke Andy moved forward to snare Miranda's lips with hers once more, wanting to deepen the contact further.

She caught the whisper of Miranda's words as a gentle finger pressed briefly against her lips. "Not now, darling."

Andy felt a pang of disappointment at the words but put a brave face on, in an attempt to hide it. She smiled but knew it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Of course, Miranda."

Miranda looked like she wanted to say more, but the car began to slow before coming to a smooth halt outside the hotel. Her hand rose, and she brushed the hair from Andy's face again. "Just give me a little time to navigate these developments, Andréa. Please." Her words were spoken low and urgently. "For now, I need you to act as if nothing had changed between us."

Andy nodded her understanding. "Yes, Miranda." She agreed, telling herself that she would hold on to her earlier thoughts and give Miranda the time she needed. She just wished it didn't seem so damn impossible.

Miranda seemed relieved by her agreement. "Good. That's good." She popped her sunglasses on and opening the door, slid gracefully from the warmth.

Andy opened her door and trotted around the car after the elegant older woman, watching raptly as her hips swayed almost hypnotically as she walked.

As she followed Miranda across the lobby she spotted Christian at the bar and remembered his words from the afternoon before.

**_"She's so straight and not at all adventurous. She's one of those that think missionary's the only position and I very much doubt she's ever thought about fucking her very female boss."_ **

He was so wrong about her. She had thought about Miranda on many a late-night while she lay restless beside Nate, wondering why she couldn't find it in herself to try and fix her relationship of five years and why she found her bosses blatant perusal each morning so exciting, leaving her wanting to please the impress woman.

What was it about Miranda Priestly that had captured her attention, her mind and her heart?

Whatever it was, she didn't want it to end. She knew Miranda's worth, even if she didn't know it, outside of her professional accolades, for herself.

**xxx**

Andy had learnt over time that Miranda was self-possessed but upon entering the small conference room provided by the hotel, she was newly awed by the woman.

Miranda was clearly in charge of the situation, demanding to know what was happening without coming across as arrogant. She maintained a cool, yet charming, façade, with the officer's as they took her statement and then Andy's and when they finally advised them both they had already contacted representatives in New York due to Jacqueline having left for the States, she nodded her understanding.

Andy knew Miranda was plotting something when her finger started to brush over her lips as the police spoke.

Before the officers left they advised them that someone would be in touch once they were home and Miranda shook herself from her thoughts, offering them her hand as she thanked them politely.

The trip in the elevator was silent and somewhat tense so when they arrived at Miranda's suite, Andy made herself busy and knelt beside the luggage at the door, checking over everything.

She found Miranda's luggage had been packed up as she'd requested and to Miranda's exacting standards. She was grateful since it was one less thing she had to concern herself over. Eventually looking up from her position on the floor beside the luggage, she saw Miranda sat on the sofa, simply watching her, her eyes unreadable.

"Come here." Miranda's voice was low and sensual and Andy couldn't stop herself from answering the summons, standing as gracefully as possible and taking the six steps towards the older woman.

As she came to a standstill in front of the captivating woman, she found her hand being grasped and she was pulled down next to her.

"Is there anything you need?" Andy asked awkwardly.

"There are a multitude of things I need, however, I find I have to put my needs aside, if only for a short time." Miranda entwined their fingers. "After everything yesterday, I'm finding I need to keep you close." She admitted quietly. "I am not usually needy in my relationships, Andréa, nor am I insecure." She stated. "But I need you close." She reiterated.

"That's fine with me." Andy breathed.

"Can you help me take my mind off things? You said you have allergies. Tell me about them." Miranda requested.

"Uh–well–" Andy struggled to find her words as Miranda's thumb caressed the back of her hand. "–some flowers, dust–" Her breath caught. "–and exercise." She blurted.

"Exercise?" Miranda smirked. "That's a new one." She stopped caressing her hand but didn't let go. "Explain."

Andy took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. "I get a rash, round, red welts on the skin of my neck, chest and at my joints that itch like a bitch." She explained. "If I do strenuous exercise, I have to have someone there and carry an EpiPen, just in case."

"By strenuous, I assume–" Miranda blushed.

Andy immediately knew where her thoughts had turned to. "Sex is fine." She grinned. "And if for any reason it wasn't a cold shower and a Zyrtec would sort me out."

"Oh." Miranda's eyes expressed incredulity. "So how is it you succeed in getting my coffee to me so quickly? I assume you don't run or you'd be covered in hives."

Andy's smile widened. "I usually call the order in, so by the time I've crossed the street, it's ready to just pick up."

"You certainly know how to think on your feet. I've become rather dependent on it." Miranda shook her head. "It will be an inconvenience to lose that once you decide to leave us."

"Miranda, I–" Andy faltered. "–I–are you planning on firing me?" She asked.

"No, but I must advise you that there is a certain clause in my contract that prohibits the forming of a personal, intimate relationship with a direct subordinate," Miranda explained. "That being said, I would like to keep you at Runway while we navigate this new development and see where it leads. Plus it will allow you to find a suitable replacement. All of Emily's choices, before you entered my world, were lacklustre at best. All that's required is a modicum of discretion."

"So, it will be a secret?" Andy clarified.

"For a time, yes," Miranda replied hesitantly. "I know I am asking a lot of you, but with the divorce and this thing with Jacqueline and Irving, I want to ensure you, and the future you hope for, are not harmed by your association with me."

"Are you sure I'm what you want in the long run, Miranda?" Andy asked, suddenly unsure about everything. "If not, I can try to–"

"Of that I am certain." Miranda scooted closer. "This is not a new thing for me, darling. Indeed, it crept up on me before I knew what was truly happening, but I meant what I said yesterday. I quite like the idea of you having a permanent place in my life."

Andy felt relieved and decided to see if she could get away with teasing the older woman. "Only quite like?" She asked, trying and failing to hide her smile.

"Mm," Miranda hummed. "Just as I quite like eating out at Pastis and quite like Valentino gowns." She added, smirking.

Andy couldn't stop her giggle and leaning close, extended her clasped hands and tapped Miranda on each shoulder. "I thus crown thee, The Queen of epic understatements." At Miranda's low, melodious laughter, she pulled back, a wide smile lighting up her face.

**xxx**

The plane journey home passed blessedly quickly, with Andy sat next to Miranda and them going over Andy's notes from the shows that week and with Miranda outlining a plan of action for future issues of the magazine.

Andy found Miranda in work mode truly magical and she hoped she could hold the same passion for her work once she settled into a position that suited her ambitions. Miranda somehow inspired her to want to be the best version of herself simply by her commitment to being her best self.

Andy was now fully aware that she had spent months denying her attraction and longing for her boss, but the events of the previous day had illuminated how much so and it was no longer something that she was willing to ignore.

From their conversation before leaving the hotel, she had come to realise her heart was safe with Miranda. There would be no manipulation or game playing, but simply the opening of their hearts to one another as they worked towards a future they both wanted.

She was being invited into Miranda's world and in all honesty, she embraced the opportunity to work towards a permanent place by her side as a partner, lover and equal.

The one thing Miranda had been insistent about was the fact she wouldn't put her life on hold to wait for Andy if she was in any way uncertain about their relationship. She advised Andy she would not beg for her attention or love.

Miranda had taken the time to explain that her life, even if only with her children and job, was fulfilling enough in many ways, but she truly wanted somebody who would enrich it further.

Miranda was unwilling to invest in a relationship she knew would ultimately fail, despite her deep feelings.

Andy easily recognised she would have to earn her place in Miranda's life and it was a challenge she would be triumphant in, because to have no place at all, would be intolerable to her.

This new understanding of Miranda had her holding the woman close for a brief moment or two before pulling back and advising her it was time to prepare for their flight. She'd found comfort and peace in Miranda's warm embrace, but she knew she would experience it again, hopefully before the day was out.

As the plane banked and started its descent into JFK, Miranda grew quiet and tense.

Andy realised there would be times she would have to fight Miranda's natural urge to hold herself at arm's length so considering her next steps, she understood she would have to continue to prove herself and show Miranda that she would always choose her and the twins, that she accepted them and that their hearts were safe with her.

It was as simple and straightforward as that and she could do nothing else due to the absolute love she felt for them all. The love she felt was pure and fierce. She was all in and would give herself freely and completely. She would be Miranda's champion and stand alongside her always.

She would claim Miranda as her own so no one else could. She would not allow Miranda to seek solace in someone else's arm. Someone with no integrity and who would ultimately break her trust.

Leaning close, she let her breath whisper against the shell of Miranda's ear. "I hope you realise there was always a small part of me that hoped you could love me too, Miranda."

Once she'd made that admission, Andy pulled back and watched Miranda soften slightly. Her eyes blazed upon her.

"Oh, my darling, my impossible one, how is it you can read me enough to predict my needs, but you have been so blind to what's in my heart?" Miranda shook her head but smiled and her eyes held warmth. "What on Earth am I to do with you?" She asked softly.

Andy swore to herself that Miranda's openness and vulnerability would not be taken for granted or ever used against her. Instead, she would let them usher them both into the place that had only existed in her deepest dreams.

"You could invite me to dinner." She declared hopefully.

**xxx**

Their arrival back into New York had everyone from Runway scattering at the airport to find their way home or calling out to each other to arrange ride-shares to various locations across the city.

Andy, however, was urged to follow Miranda, despite Nigel's attempts to spirit her away, and upon seeing Roy waiting, she was told to get in the car while he handled their luggage.

If anyone thought there was anything strange in Miranda's behaviour, they said nothing, but Andy sensed Serena's knowing eyes following them and when she turned to glance back, she spotted her whispering something in Nigel's ear.

Whatever was said had him mopping his brow with a large spotted handkerchief.

Settling into the comfort of the warm, pre-heated leather seats, Andy sighed. It was a luxury she had enjoyed as she travelled around Manhattan on every one of Miranda's tasks, in the many Elias Clarke town cars at her disposal.

Roy, as Miranda's driver, took exceptional care of the car and passenger's. It was his job to drive the editor and her family around and the newest task he'd been assigned was to wait for Andy with the book.

Andy had wondered about it for all of five minutes after being told of the changes but assumed it was one yet another of Miranda's quirks to ensure the book arrived safely. When she'd been made aware of the new change, Emily had simply huffed and muttered something about the favourite getting preferential treatment.

When Roy slipped behind the wheel Miranda spoke. "The townhouse, Roy and raise the glass."

She didn't mention anything about him dropping Andy once she was home and Andy glanced at her, an eyebrow raised.

"It will be late by the time you get to your apartment and then return for dinner so you may as well come with," Miranda explained. "Plus you promised me a pastrami on rye and a coffee and I'm famished." She smirked.

Andy realised she was also growing hungry. Had they still been in Paris she would have been settling down for dinner, now, with the six-hour time difference, it was just after lunch. "Oh, okay." She shrugged good-naturedly before looking at the privacy glass then back at Miranda and smirking when Miranda noticed her pointed glance and blushed.

Deciding to leave the matter, she settled back into the seat and waited.

She didn't have to wait long. Catching the soft click of Miranda's seatbelt releasing, soon enough the older woman was sat directly beside her so their thighs touched and her head settled against her shoulder. Her hand was taken and Miranda's smaller hand entwined with hers.

"Mm, this is nice," Miranda whispered.

Andy couldn't believe her luck and pressed a light kiss against the crown of Miranda's head as she inhaled deeply, taking in her scent. "Will you tell me about your perfume?" She asked hesitantly. "All Emily would say is that it was custom made for you and isn't sold to the masses."

Miranda glanced up before tucking her face into the crook of her neck. "A few years ago representatives at Givenchy reached out with the idea and I agreed. So they created it with the assistance of a British perfume designer. It is a scent that supposedly captured my emotional aesthetic and matched my style and character." She scoffed. "It's a load of twaddle if you ask me, although I do like it and it's not overpowering. You may be able to smell a slight floral note and that comes from oleander, yellow jasmine, white narcissus and even freesias." Her lips twitched. "Blended with citrus bergamot, Oudh and rosewood with a base of frankincense and white musk."

"It smells beautiful, but aren't all those flowers poisonous in some way?" Andy asked.

"Mm, yes." Miranda agreed. Each one is beautiful and intoxicating, but they are deadly to touch, smell or taste."

"And is that how you want to be seen?" Andy asked. At Miranda's head lifted from her shoulder, she explained. "Beautiful yet deadly."

"No, darling." Miranda settled her head back down. "From what I was told, it was meant to convey a seductive and magnetic power with a uniquely loving twist." She smiled softly.

"Oh, that is you." Andy breathed in again.

**xxx**

Upon their arrival at the townhouse, instead of going in, Andy had hurried off to PJ Bernstein's and Starbucks.

When she returned within half an hour, she saw Miranda had showered and changed. After providing Miranda with the sandwich and coffee she craved and them eating together silently, she was shown to a guest room where her luggage had already been placed next to the door.

Before she could ask, Miranda spoke. "You should find comfortable, clean clothes in the closet and all you need in the bathroom to shower or bathe should you wish." She blushed once more and ducked her head.

Andy found it delightful. She'd seriously had no idea how shy Miranda was outside of her role as Editor-in-Chief of Runway. She entered Miranda's personal space and lifted her chin to catch her eyes. "Thank you." Her gratitude was heartfelt and she knew Miranda would sense it. Unable to resist, Andy bent her head and pressed a soft kiss against the corner of Miranda's mouth. She pulled away quickly when the front door slammed and the patter of little feet hit the marble floor.

"Mooooom?" The twin's shrill cry cut through the air.

"Miranda, I–" Andy started.

Miranda shook herself and took three quick steps back. "Not now, darling."

Andy groaned when Miranda stalked from the room and met the twins at the bottom of the stairs.

She caught Miranda's quiet words of chastisement, but there was warmth in the tone of her voice. "Now, what have I told you about screeching like banshees?"

"It is unbecoming of young women." Andy heard Cassidy respond.

"But mo-om–" Caroline whined. The rest of her sentence was too quiet for Andy to catch

"I've missed you too, Bobbsey's," Miranda stated. Andy could picture her bending to be at eye level. "Now, how about we make some hot chocolate while we wait for Andréa to shower and join us."

"Andy's here?" Cassidy squealed.

"Yes," Miranda stated blandly.

"Woooohooo!" Caroline cheered loudly.

Andy grinned and moved to the closet Miranda had pointed out. She was stunned to find multiple pairs of jeans in various fits, t-shirts, blouses, casual shirts and a soft, oversized cashmere sweater. She was provided with lingerie and comfortable cotton underwear too.

It was as if Miranda had planned this, especially for her comfort.

Settling on a pair of plain black cotton briefs and its matching, underwire free bra, she pulled out a pair of dark-wash boyfriend fit True Religion jeans and the sweater. She moved out of the large closet and glanced around, realising she hadn't taken the room in at all.

She loved how light and airy it was with its cream walls and the bright blue accent features, like the elegant chaise in the corner of the room and the curtains, both of which matched the exact colour of the blanket folded neatly at the bottom of the bed.

God, she loved Cerulean.

With a content smile, Andy headed to the ensuite but once she opened the door and took in the luxurious surroundings, found herself gaping open-mouthed. The bathroom itself was almost as big as the living area at her apartment, she was sure of it.

Stripping naked quickly, Andy turned the shower on and entered the stall, marvelling over the strong, steady water pressure against her tired and aching muscles. She let herself relax and sighed once again as the water continued to pound over her skin in the most delicious way.

**xxx**

It was growing late and Andy's eyes were heavy, but she didn't want to move.

Curled up on the large sofa, that dominated the family room, surrounded by Miranda, she was at peace and there was a very large part of her that never wanted to move.

They had spent the night watching movies with the twins who had, at times, glanced at both of them with questions in their eyes.

They hadn't mentioned Stephen at all.

When Miranda had finally returned to the room from tucking them into their beds, she had settled beside her, entwining their fingers and murmured. "They now know about the recent changes we are implementing and are supportive and have agreed to keep the secret for now. They also claimed, quite emphatically, that you are going to be the best thing to ever happen to our family." She smiled softly and leaned forward to grab the TV remote and scrolled through movie options.

Now, hours later, she squinted at her watch and groaned. If she didn't leave soon she would miss the last subway and have to get a cab.

"What is it?" Miranda murmured sleepily.

"I should go," Andy explained gently. She attempted a joke. "I'm no doubt overstaying my welcome and I want to be invited back." She quipped.

When Miranda pulled back and her lips pursed, she knew the joke had fallen flat. "I suppose you should see your fry-cook." She pulled back and slid to the furthest end of the sofa.

"Miranda, no," Andy yelled before moderating her voice. "I–he–damn it, Miranda, he's not in the picture anymore."

"He isn't?" Miranda asked.

"Nope, not since the night after you told me I was coming to Paris with you. Plus, I'll have you know I'm not one to cheat." Andy insisted. At Miranda's look of disbelief, she continued, hoping the other woman would see the truth in her eyes. "I swear, Miranda, Nate is not waiting for my return."

"He's not?" Miranda asked breathlessly.

"No." Andy grimaced.

"Then he is a fool," Miranda whispered.

"Perhaps. You know, when he found out I was heading to Paris, we argued and he said some shit and then he went home, packed a bag and went to stay with a mutual friend without saying a word." Andy ruffled her bangs. "My _friend_ called me while we were in Paris and advised me, quite gleefully I might add, that he had interviewed for a sous-chef position in Boston and on being offered the job, cleared out the apartment we shared." She huffed. "So no, he's not waiting and I seriously don't want to leave, but I know I need to arrange things so I'm ready to hit the ground running on Monday." She grinned a little. "I'll have you know I have quite the demanding boss."

"You haven't seen anything yet." Miranda grinned back at her. "But you shall stay tonight, we shall eat breakfast together and then the twins and I will see you home. You will not be travelling the city tonight, it is not safe."

Andy took a deep breath to stop herself from arguing her point. She inherently understood there would be bigger battles to be fought between her and the silver-haired Devil she adored. "Yes, Miranda." She lay back and opened her arms out to the woman. "C'mere."

Taking a shaky breath, Miranda scooted closer before lying at her side once again. "You realise we have beds waiting for us?" She asked.

"Yeah, but that means moving and I'm not ready to let go and say goodnight just yet," Andy admitted.

**xxx**

"This is simply intolerable." Miranda seethed, her eyes scanning the small apartment Andy called home. The twins were sat on mismatched chairs at the chipped, Formica dining table playing Harry Potter Wizards Unite on their cell. "He took the bed _and_ the sofa." She shook her head. "How on Earth are you to manage? Are you to sleep on the floor like some–" she faltered, clearly unable to find an adequate adjective.

Trying to calm the older woman's rising temper, Andy stepped close. "Hey, it's okay. I can head out later and pick up a cotton futon or something." Her words were met with a glare of disbelief and Andy knew the other woman was not appeased. "Why do we sleep in beds, Miranda?" She could see the question had thrown the woman by the surprise in her eyes.

"It–it is simply the way we do things, Andréa." Miranda rolled her eyes.

"We didn't last night." She grinned at Miranda as she huffed and let her mind drift to that morning when the twins' surprised giggles had woken her when they found her on the sofa with Miranda curled against her chest. "You do realise, in many parts of the world, sleeping on the floor is quite common, whether it's directly on the floor or a roll-out mat." Andy insisted. "If you think about it, it would give me more room, allowing me to become a little more minimalistic and it'll make the apartment easier to clean." She grinned at her reasoning.

"You have allergies." Miranda pointed out. "Have you considered the amount of dust and mould that currently reside in these hideous carpets, which could easily trigger you adversely?" She queried.

Andy hadn't thought of that at all and her eyes itched at the very thought of what was hidden in the depths. "What would you have me do, Miranda?" She asked.

Miranda exhaled. "I don't know."

"You could stay with us." Cassidy chirped up.

"Yeah, Andy," Caroline sassed.

Andy jumped in surprise. They'd been sat so quietly, she'd momentarily forgotten all about them. "My imps, I don't think that's–"

"Acceptable," Miranda exclaimed.

Rolling her eyes, Andy grinned. "Oh, so now I see what it's going to be like. You three ganging up on me." She tugged her fingers. "What about work?" She asked, still uncertain.

"Are you about to shout the change of address from the Elias Clarke roof terrace?" Miranda asked.

"I might." Andy let out a breathless chuckle. "It's a big step and–"

"If you are uncertain–" Miranda started.

"–it's sudden, but–" Andy continued.

"–I rescind Cassidy's offer," Miranda stated coldly.

"–I think I'd like to, very much." Andy finished. Her head shot up as she registered Miranda's words. "Hey, no backsies."

The twins laughed and Miranda's lips twitched up in a small smile. "Fine. So you'll stay?"

Andy shook her head at the absurdity of the situation. "Yeah." She agreed. "What should I do with the rest of my stuff?"

"Burn it," Miranda muttered. She caught her eyes. "I suppose we should pack your clothes up. We can't have you running around Runway unsuitably attired or in your birthday suit." Her lips twitched once again. "Although on second thoughts–"

"Eww, mom. Little ears." Cassidy yelled.

Andy shrugged. "Most of my clothes will fit into a few bags. A lot of the things I've borrowed from the closet go straight back after being dry-cleaned." She stepped towards the bedroom.

"I hope that kind of thing is added to the Runway cleaning bill." Miranda followed and her eyes roamed around the room again as Andy pulled some scruffy luggage free and started removing clothes from the closet.

"No, I set aside some of my pay and–" Andy felt Miranda's eyes on her and stopped what she was doing. "–what have I done now?"

"Why would you use your personal funds? Surely, once you started to dress for Runway, Emily advised you that kind of expense is covered?" Miranda asked in disbelief.

"I–uh–" Andy didn't want to drop Emily in the shit, but could see Miranda knew the answer when her eyes narrowed. "–no. That was never mentioned by Emily or anyone else." She admitted. "It's no bother." She turned to the task at hand, shoving everything in the suitcases haphazardly. "I'll speak to a tax advisor to see if I qualify for a valid deduction for laundry."

"You won't," Miranda told her. "Simply put, your Runway clothing is suitable for everyday wear outside of work, which is why, when I became Editor-in-Chief, that was one of the first things I changed having been left out of pocket." She pursed her lips but her eyes cleared. "If you have the receipts, give them to me and I shall have the accounts team arrange to cover the costs you have accrued so far.

"Miranda, that's not necessary." Andy shrugged. "At least I know now."

Miranda leaned against the small dressing table, her ass knocking a small jewellery box. "I will get my way on this, Andréa."

Andy sighed, knowing this was yet another argument she wouldn't win. "Yes, of course, Miranda."

"Good." Miranda smiled. "Now, are you almost done."

Andy finished with her clothes and brushed past Miranda to grab the small back velvet box holding her jewellery and pushed it in the corner of a holdall before heading back into the main living area and the bathroom. "I'll just grab my toiletries and we can go."

"Well, move at a glacial pace, darling," Miranda called out.

Looking over her shoulder, Andy saw the editor's small smirk and grinned widely at her. "Yes, yes. I know just how much it thrills you." She teased.

**xxx**

Having Miranda and the twins invite her into their home seemed improbable, yet it had happened and she'd let herself be swept along.

So when she finally started to question the decision internally, growing more and more anxious as she sat in the passenger seat beside Miranda while she drove the large SUV back towards the Upper East Side, it surely wasn't that surprising.

Miranda cut her eyes at her briefly and when a warm hand was placed on hers, stopping her from tugging at her fingers, she glanced at the other woman and spoke softly. "In what world is this a good idea, Miranda? What are we thinking?"

"Hopefully, like I, you were thinking about how happy it would make us," Miranda stated quietly. "I want you to be happy, comfortable and safe, darling." She eased to a stop at a red light. "And, if for whatever reason this doesn't work out, I hope we can still be friends and you feel you can retain a place in our lives."

"Oh," Andy breathed. "It sounds like you have thought about this in-depth."

Miranda changed gears with ease and continued to drive. "I am not one to do things on the spur of the moment, darling. Not in my personal life anyway, and especially when it could be something that affects my children." She told her. "But I have come to realise just how unique a person you are and despite my inherent aloofness, there was–is a large part of me that wants to know you. This will give me that opportunity to do so and I am not one to look a gift horse in the mouth when a chance of finding happiness is so close at hand."

"Do I make you happy?" Andy asked lightly.

"Delirious." Miranda deadpanned. Turning serious, she spoke further. "I don't ever want you to be left thinking I do not truly appreciate the way you care for me and my Bobbsey's. I do. Very much so, even though I may struggle to voice it. You have and continue to be kind and genuine and it is a rarity." She exhaled softly. "You are simply beautiful, in all ways."

Those words, coming from Miranda of all people, who understood beauty better than anyone else in the world, had Andy tearing up. "I think you're beautiful too." She admitted. "God." She husked. "I wanna kiss you so bad."

Miranda blushed furiously. "Not now, darling."

As much as Andy wanted to ask ' **when'** , she bit her tongue. She would be patient and would allow Miranda to move at a glacial pace if that's what she needed.

**xxx**

Miranda stormed into the office without warning and Andy got to her feet quickly. She watched as the sunglasses were snatched from Miranda's face and she stood glaring at her as she shrugged out of her jacket and threw in on her desk.

Andy swallowed nervously. She had a small inkling why Miranda was acting in such a way and it was only a matter of time until she was on the receiving end of her displeasure or disappointment. Her cell chimed and looking down at where it was lit up on her desk, she saw Roy's one-word apology. She knew she'd have to call him eventually and find out what had happened that morning.

Emily eased herself into her desk chair and waited with bated breath for Miranda to tear strips off her for whatever she'd done to piss Miranda off.

Andy tried at nonchalance. "Good morning, Miranda. Did you have a good weekend?"

Miranda exhaled shakily. "It was tolerable." She spun on her heel. "Come along, close the door."

Andy's hand ran almost unconsciously through her bangs as she stepped around her desk and followed the older woman into her office. She caught the glee in Emily's sing-song voice as she went to shut the door. "Somebody's going to get it."

She flipped the redhead the bird before the door closed. Turning to Miranda, she saw the woman had settled in front of the window, staring out. "You left."

"Miranda, I–" Andy frowned. "–I left for work, that's all."

"You left me in your bed," Miranda muttered. "I woke up alone."

Andy was confused. Yes, Miranda was with her that morning when she woke, and she remembered how she'd welcomed the editor into the warmth of her arms in the early hours after the older woman, unable to sleep, had accidentally woken her when she gently brushed her hair from her face and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. But she didn't understand why Miranda was so bothered by her getting up, showering quietly, dressing for the day and then leaving to catch the subway to Elias Clarke.

Andy stepped closer until she was just a step behind the woman and her hand hovered at her shoulder wanting to offer reassurances.

Miranda took a step back so they were pressed close and she let her hand fall on Miranda's shoulder, offering it a light squeeze. "I loved waking up with you, you must know that." She insisted. "But you asked for discretion, and I'm trying to support that, so I thought getting the subway would be more suitable than expecting to ride in with you. Can you imagine everyone's reaction to that, once it became common knowledge?"

"Oh, Lord. I'm being ridiculous, aren't I?" Miranda sniffed and Andy's arm wrapped around her waist.

"Just a little." Andy smiled. "You looked so peaceful, I didn't want to disturb you," Andy whispered. "You looked so beautiful in the light of the new day, I couldn't tear my eyes away from you, and I wanted to crawl back into that bed beside you and wake you with kisses. The only thing that could stop me from doing just that, was leaving the room, leaving you there."

Miranda's head fell back against her shoulder and she relaxed. "Why does this seem so hard?" She whispered.

"It's only for a short time and then I'll move on." Andy breathed. "I want to be here to witness what you have planned for Irv and Jacqueline."

"And Christian," Miranda whispered. "He shall not get away with his disrespect of you, darling." Her face turned and she pressed her lips against Andy's jaw. "His words about you to those two snakes–" She shook her head. "–disgraceful."

Minutes past and there was a ferocious knock at her door that had Miranda pulling away and turning to sweep past her to settle at her desk.

Andy followed and when she glanced at the editor, she saw her lift the coffee and sigh as she sipped. "Thank you, Andréa. You may let whoever in on your way out." She stepped to the door and when she reached for the handle, was surprised by having the door pushed back into her face.

Irv stormed into the office, red-faced and sweating. "I'm going to make your life Hell, Miranda Priestly." He roared furiously.

"Oh, do shut up, Irving." Miranda pursed her lips. "Andréa, have Security on standby. Once I'm done with this horrid little man, send Emily in. That's all."

Andy saw the fury in her eyes as she looked back at the woman. "Yes, Miranda." She squeaked.

**xxx**

When Emily clunked her way out of Miranda's office, her cell lodged precariously between her ear and shoulder as she moved beyond the outer office and into one of the small conference rooms, Andy didn't think anything of it and continued to respond to emails.

A few minutes later, her attention was taken from the email she was forming to appease Donatella for the lack of updates regarding Miranda's hospitalisation in Paris when a schedule change notification popped up. Opening it, she saw a lunch appointment for that day at Pastis, with James Holt and Jaqueline. Her eyes widened.

Standing quickly, she moved towards the editor's inner lair but stalled when she heard her speaking softly into the phone. "Yes, she will be at Pastis at noon. I want this handled Maxwell. Why is this seemingly so hard for you to understand? Am I reaching for the stars? No, not really."

Andy took three quick steps back and sank into her chair with such force it slid back and she only just stopped herself from falling on her ass. Taking a quick shuddering breath, she looked at her watch and saw there was only a couple of hours to go. She wondered idly what it was that Miranda was having her lawyers deal with. She could surmise, whatever it was, it included retribution for that skunk, Jacqueline.

Another notification pinged and she saw the 2 pm meeting scheduled with Christian Thompson.

"Oh, fuck!" Andy breathed, closing her eyes and trying to calm herself.

The Elias Clarke board had met the previous day and upon learning of Irv's interference in Miranda's personal records and his intent to cause harm, albeit through someone else, they had passed a unanimous vote of no-confidence, ensuring his dismissal. Security had escorted him from the building that morning, without him even being given the chance to pack up his office.

And now, this.

Continuing to take deep, calming breaths, she realised Miranda's punishment on those who had wronged her would be swift. Andy felt slightly sick.

 _One_ _down, two to go_. She thought.

**xxx**

Andy followed Miranda into Pastis, still surprised by Miranda's query, upon receiving her coat and bag from her, over why she wasn't ready to leave. She quickly came to understand that she was going to the meeting too.

With her head bowed, she situated herself beside the editor and made to take out her notepad and pen, but Miranda's hand on top of hers, stopped all movement and she finally looked up.

"You won't be needing those." Miranda insisted lightly. She snatched her hand away when James sat dejectedly at the table, making excuses for his tardiness.

When James smiled at Andy, it didn't quite reach his eyes and he looked tired. "Massimo sends his regards to you both." He turned to Miranda nervously. "We both hope you are feeling well." He posed his slight question as a statement.

"Yes, I am. Thanks to Andréa." Miranda's hand found Andy's knee and squeezed it.

"We were happy you had Andy to help you with–" James shrugged. "–it."

"Has Massimo advised what is to happen today?" Miranda asked.

"Yes," James sighed. "I'm not surprised after what he told me. I suppose it will be easy enough to find a new president."

"Perhaps someone else from Runway, someone that hoped he would be taking the role," Miranda smirked.

Andy's jaw dropped and Miranda squeezed her knee under the table once more. Her focus was taken away from the warm hand when there was a disturbance at the door of the restaurant and she glanced over to see Jacqueline handing a small yapping Chihuahua to a passing waiter and telling her to see to it the animal was fed and watered as another staff member knelt, tossing a bunch of napkins on a small puddle of urine.

"I hate that damn dog. It defecated on my Nourison yesterday." James uttered, his voice showing his disgust. He must have seen Andy's confusion and took pity. "My new rug." He explained.

"Oh," Andy breathed as Jacqueline seated herself without a word, sitting back with her arms folded.

The silence thickened before Jacqueline broke it. "James Holt's relationship with Runway is over. Vogue will now have full access to his newest designs before anyone else."

"I don't think so," Miranda stated cooly, leaning forward, the palms of both hands on the table. "As you know, I found James, I nurtured his talent and showcased his designs in my magazine," Miranda stated coldly. "I made him a household name, so he will continue to provide Runway with the full access of his latest designs, as he has always done."

Jacqueline let out a tinkling laugh. "Non, that is not how we are proceeding as we move into this new venture, Miranda. You have no power over James now." Her voice, lightly accented as it was, was soft and taunting.

Miranda sat back. "We'll see." Her eyes scanned the room and she smirked.

Following her gaze, Andy saw the two uniformed police officers talking to the Maitre D' and being pointed in their direction.

James looked affronted by Jacqueline's words. "Jac, I think it would be best to maintain our relationship with Runway and I know Massimo agrees. Which is why–" he swallowed nervously. "–I have to tell you–" he took a deep breath. "–Are you actually listening to me? You're fired."

"No, you cannot–no, no!" Jacqueline stood up abruptly and the two officers stopped at either side of her.

"Jacqueline Follet?" One of the officer's asked.

"Yes." Jacqueline looked perplexed.

The other officer pulled her arms behind her back. "You're under arrest in connection with an assault in Paris. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law–" Before he could cuff Jacqueline's wrists, she tore one of her arms free and elbowed the officer in his nose. The bone crunched and blood splattered over the crisp white linen covering the table.

Andy and Miranda both pulled back while James used a napkin to dab at the small spot of blood that landed on his shirt cuff.

The first officer took over, grabbing her flailing arm and cuffing her quickly. "You have a right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney one will be appointed for you. Do you understand?"

"No, no, no!" Jacqueline' denial grew in intensity as she tried to fight for freedom. "Do you know who I am?" She screeched.

**xxx**

Once Jacqueline had been pulled away and bundled into the back of the waiting police car, things had calmed and James and Miranda spoke of his next steps as they ate lunch.

Their return to Elias Clarke, just before she was due to meet with Christian, saw Miranda finally taking in her chosen attire for the day. The slim fit, ankle-grazing Lanvin pants, blazer and Versace patterned silk shirt. Her blue eyes darkened to a deep sapphire. "Very nice, Andy." She murmured, her lips twitching up in a small smile.

"Thank you, Miranda." Andy beamed. She was thrilled her outfit was deemed suitable and that Miranda recognised she was feeling more like Andy and less like Andréa.

"Come along." Miranda cocked her head towards her office. "Emily, show Me Thompson in when he arrives." She moved gracefully towards her office and Andy followed.

Miranda settled behind her desk and siped the chilled Pellegrino waiting. She looked down at some proofs. "Bring a chair around. You will take notes."

Andy rushed to do Miranda's bidding, setting the chair on an angle slightly to the right of the woman. As soon as she sat there was a slight knock on the door and Christian strode into the room as if he owned it.

"Andy, what are you doing here?" Christian smirked smugly at her. "Couldn't keep away?" He teased.

" _Andréa_ is here to take notes." Miranda corrected him, pursing her lips. "And she'll hopefully learn something distinct about the publishing world."

"So what's this about?" Christian say back, his hands clasped behind his head.

"Straight to the point, I see?" Miranda queried with deadly softness. "Okay." She breathed. "You had the audacity to call me and demand to know why you have not heard back from anyone about your articles," Miranda stated. "So I am taking upon myself to respond in person."

Andy let out a low groan and grimaced. She knew Christian had seriously shot himself in the foot. The one thing she'd learned about the publishing world was never to make demands on a publisher. He had shown a complete lack of understanding for how things worked and it also displayed a total lack of respect for the work the editorial team had to do with the incoming submissions.

Miranda picked up his cover letter on the desk between them and passed it to her. "Andréa, read this and tell me what is wrong with it," Miranda asked.

Andy read and bit her lip. Christain had used the letter to brag about how great he was, the awards he had been nominated for (but hadn't won) and how ridiculously crazy he believed Runway, and Elias Clarke, would be if they didn't publish him in their publications. Such foolishness would no doubt have been passed along to Miranda from editorial, to decide on their next course of action. She knew many publishing companies would simply shred the article and cover letter, removing all traces of it without responding. They wouldn't want to work with such a total self-absorbed asshat.

"Your thoughts?" Miranda queried.

"I know publishers and editorial readers judge a writer on more than their writing." She took a shaky breath. "Their judgement comes from personal interactions with the writer, so emails, letters, phone calls and in-person meetings play a large part in a submission being accepted." Andy licked her lips. "For some, this also includes how the writer connects with people on Social Media." She placed the cover letter back down on the edge of Miranda's desk with shaky hands. "I know, from experience, that just because you write something, it doesn't mean you are automatically entitled to getting it published. I was warned that certain behaviour towards a publisher, such as cockiness or making demands, can ensure that, regardless of how good your submission is, they will never consider anything you write. You would be blacklisted by such publishing houses."

Christian had turned slightly pale and started to sweat slightly.

"Not as succinct as I would have preferred." Miranda mused. "But you have made some very valid points, Andréa, that hopefully, Mr Thompson will take something away from this and adjust himself accordingly." She turned back to the man. "I believe you had promises made to you, that you would run the editorial content once Jacqueline took over as editor-in-chief?" Her eyebrow arched as she waited for a response.

None came.

"That will _never_ happen." Miranda insisted. "As always, I am the only one who heads up all content, I am the one that oversees every word and photograph in my magazine and as of today, I am the global editorial director for Runway International."

Andy gasped. Miranda's new role was certainly news to her and she wondered what that meant for them. Surely, with Miranda so busy, there would be very little time for them to work on their new relationship.

Miranda continued to glare at the man before shaking her head. "And, I warn you now, no Runway magazine will _ever_ publish you, simply because I do not like you. I do not like the way you treat women." She cut her eyes at Andy. "Nor your arrogance, over-confidence and obnoxious attitude. That's all." Miranda flicked her wrist dismissively.

Andy watched as Christian shot up and almost ran from the room and she had to admit she was in equal parts aroused and terrified. She had always only partly believed Miranda's reputation for blacklisting was just a scare tactic but today she had proven otherwise and it was very likely, once other publishers caught word of her refusal to work with Christian, they would follow suit, simply out of sheer respect for the power-house.

She wondered, what if, after everything, she ended up doing something to displease the editor. Would Miranda stall her future aspirations too?

When Andy finally stood up, Miranda's warm hand on her wrist stopped her from moving around the desk to leave the office. She glanced down at the woman and searched her eyes. "I am not blind to your surprise over my announcement, Andy, and we will discuss this, I promise. Just–"

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Andy rolled her eyes. "Just not now." Tearing her arm free smoothly, she picked up the chair and sat it in its usual spot before leaving the office. Instead of settling at her desk, she walked straight past it and exited the outer offices.

"Where do you think you are going? Get back here!" Emily called after her.

Turning her head, she had just two words for the high-strung redhead. "Bite me." She entered the elevator without looking back.

**xxx**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to apologise for the delay in updating. Real-life has been kicking ass recently. As always, I look forward to hearing what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part 3: What was I thinking?**

"Andréa, coat and bag." Miranda walked out of her office ready to call it a day and return home to her beautiful children, but instead of her second assistant turned– well, whatever Andy was, she found Emily near to tears. Her lips pursed. "Where is she?" She demanded.

Letting out a hiccuping sob, Emily shook her head. "I don't know." She wailed, wiping her running nose with a damp tissue.

"What do you mean, you do not know?" Miranda demanded, losing all patience at the slobbering woman. "What on Earth is the matter with you?"

"I–uh–I–" Emily stuttered.

Lifting an eyebrow, Miranda lowered her voice to a deadly level. "Well?"

"That bloody cow just left. She didn't even take her coat or purse." Emily lamented before starting to cry in earnest. "And I need to pee but can't leave the phones."

Miranda pinched the bridge of her nose between two fingers, trying to keep her temper at the redhead's words. "So many ridiculous rules." She looked at Emily once more and shook her head in disbelief. "Why are you still sitting there? Go." She flicked her hand toward the bathroom.

Emily stood and wobbled slightly. "The phones?"

"I am capable of answering a phone, Emily. My word, do you think I am that incompetent?" Miranda asked. "Just go."

Not for the first time, she wondered what on Earth she was thinking by hiring such a temperamental woman. Then again, Emily may be touchy and rather neurotic, but she was rather passionate about fashion and its place in the world.

She watched the redhead clump away clumsily on her crutches and moved around to Andy's desk. She saw her purse on the floor in front of the desk drawers and the cell lit up on the desk, emails, calls and messages left unanswered. Moving further, she saw the brunette's black coat beside her own.

Frowning, she heard her desk phone trill from within her office and moved quickly towards it. Glancing at the screen, she saw the withheld number and answered, knowing it would be important since very few people had her direct line. "Yes?"

"Mir–Oh, thank God." She heard the soft sobbing. "–so–sorry."

Miranda realised it was Andy. "Where are you, darling?"

"17th Precinct," Andy admitted in a whisper. "Stephen was– well, we ran into each other and he said some stuff and I lost it. I don't remember much else after, but–."

"Do you need bail? Is that why you called?" Miranda demanded coldly. "For money?"

"No, Mir–no! I'm not–I don't want or need your fucking money." Andy was growing more upset, she could hear it in the rising of her voice. "I should have known you'd think that." She took a shuddering breath. "You know, what, just forget I called. I'll sort this out for myself."

"Andréa–" Miranda sank into her chair when the call disconnected abruptly. Slamming the receiver down, she rested her elbows on her desk and put her face in her hands. She sat there for a while, contemplating the fact Andy had hung up on her and why she would be at the local police precinct until she heard Nigel and Emily's raised voices. Curiosity had her standing and making her way to the door to the outer office.

"–I'm taking her things," Nigel asserted. It was clear he was repeating himself. He had Andy's coat, cell and purse in his hands.

"Those things do not belong to her, but Runway." Emily insisted. "You have no right to take those things after she left so unprofessionally this afternoon."

"Did she confess her love to Miranda or perhaps tell her to go fuck herself?" Nigel answered his questions, going off on a tangent. "No. She simply took a coffee break after a crazy day and walked straight into a moronic asshole and now–"

Miranda decided to intervene. "And now?

"She wants to go home after spending the better part of her afternoon at the hospital, not that either you fucking care an ounce that the young woman is hurt, and then the last hour has been spent at the police station giving a statement." Nigel looked furious. "She needs the keys for her apartment." He spat. "And so help me God, if either of you tries to stop me taking her things to her, I will–"

"Come along, Nigel." Miranda declared, stopping Nigel's tirade entirely and grabbing her coat and purse, she moved towards the elevator quickly. Looking over her shoulder she huffed at the surprised bald man. "Roy is waiting, Nigel. Do move at more than a glacial pace."

**xxx**

Roy pulled up to the curb outside the precinct with a screech of tyres but before he could even open his door and move around to open Miranda's, she slipped from the car and marched into the building. Her eyes scanned the surroundings for the familiar sight of her second assistant turned–whatever.

Unable to locate Andy on the first scan of the small waiting room, she stepped up to the front desk, where a bored-looking man in uniform sat sipping from a mug holding a thick, black sludge, that could only be coffee.

"I'm looking for Andréa Sachs," Miranda stated.

The man shrugged. "Never heard of her."

Miranda lost all patience. With a crack, her palm landed on the desk causing the man to jump and spill his drink. She leaned forward. "I am looking for Andréa Sachs." She repeated coldly and emphatically.

"Whoa, lady. Calm down, will ya." The officer sat back, dabbing his shirt front. "As I said, I ain't heard of her."

"Miranda?" The small, wavering voice coming from behind her, held disbelief.

She spun around to see the brunette and her eyes cast over her, noticing almost immediately that her shirt was torn, despite her tugging at the blazer front to cover herself with a hand that was covered in a bright blue plaster cast. The blazer and shirt sleeves had been shorn untidily to make room for the cast.

"Andréa." Miranda felt relief sweep through her. "I'm here to take you home." She stated softly. Her eyes scanned Andy's face and seeing bruises where there had been none earlier that day, she grew furious. To have someone mar such beauty was an intolerable thought to her.

"Which one?" Andy asked. "Mine or yours?"

She took two steps forward but noticed how the brunette stiffened. She stopped walking and simply waited. "Mi–Ours," Miranda told her gently. "The townhouse." She wondered what thoughts were running through the brunette's mind. She often prided herself on knowing, if only from looking into her eyes, but they were closed off. They were red and damp from her tears and she looked tired and defenceless. "Please, Andy." She held out her hand cautiously. "Come home with me."

Nigel's familiar cologne filled her senses and she watched as he stepped between them and helped Andy into her coat and fastened the front buttons briskly. "There now, you're fit to be seen outside of this place." He advised her gently with a shake of his head. "I hope you bit his fucking hand off."

She let her hand drop and pursed her lips. "Is that language necessary?" Miranda asked.

"Yes." Both of them answered simultaneously.

Upon reflection, they were correct. With all things considered, as Andy had claimed that weekend, well-timed expletives were somewhat cathartic, and it would be particularly so following what she had gone through.

Nigel had provided her with the basics of what had happened that afternoon and she was deeply disturbed by her words on the phone to her–whatever she was, for letting her insecurities rise. She simply wasn't used to having someone not want or need something from her.

Upon leaving Elias Clarke that afternoon and walking through Midtown, Andy had run into Stephen, who, upon recognising her, started to rant at her about his calls and emails being ignored and how his shoes, chewed by Patricia, were ruined. Upon claiming he was being treated like a fool and shouting various obscenities and insults, Andy had responded to his words by cussing him out. At that point, Stephen had slapped her with one hand while his other had risen to cover her mouth. So Andy had bitten down, rather hard, breaking the skin in the process and forcing him to let her go. In retaliation, she'd been slapped again and when Stephen was restrained by a passing tradesman who'd taken umbrage at the sight of the young women being struck, she had fallen.

Looking beyond the pair, she caught sight of the woman who was hovering behind them. She was dressed plainly yet fashionably and had a fierce look in her eyes despite her relaxed attitude. Miranda hoped, above anything, that Stephen would get what was coming to him. When she felt the brunette at her side and her left hand was taken, she sighed and entwined her fingers between Andy's. Nigel's small gasp couldn't be ignored. "Have you something to say, Nigel?" She asked.

"Uh–no, Miranda. I'll just–" Nigel gestured to the doors leading to the city before moving away quickly.

She turned to Andy. "I'll have Leslie minimise the press and Maxwell will handle the legalities," Miranda advised. "Stephen will regret ever crossing your path." She declared.

"He already does." The woman smirked. "His wound appears minor but he had to have tetanus shot and will need a course of antibiotics to stave off any potential infection." The woman held out her hand and Miranda took it. "Detective Olivia Benson, Special Victims Unit." She offered her a small smile. "No charges have been raised against Andy since she was acting in self-defence and the perp–uh–Mr Thomlinson, is cooperating with our officers."

"Special Vic–" Miranda's head snapped to the side and she glanced worriedly at Andy. "Is there more I should know?"

"Oh no, nothing like that." Olivia hurried to reassure her. "When I saw Andy struggling to cover herself properly, I stopped to see if there was something I could do to help. That's all."

At hearing her usual dismissal coming from someone else, and feeling Andy's shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter, she cut her eyes to the detective and saw her grinning at her. She shook her head and smirked. "Cheeky." She returned lightly before turning serious. "Thank you for caring, Detective. Are we free to leave?"

"You are," Olivia stated. "Please take care of each other."

**xxx**

They dropped Nigel off at his Soho loft before being taken home, showering and sitting down to eat dinner with the twins.

Caroline and Cassidy had become rather upset when they initially ran into the foyer and saw Andy was hurt. She'd tried frantically to reassure them, playing down her injuries by simply saying she'd been clumsy and fallen. She hadn't mentioned Stephen's name at all.

Before showering, Miranda assisted Andy with her clothes, unfastening the buttons, unhooking clasps and pulling down zips with ease. Once all the clothing could be removed easily, she turned her back and left the guest room so she could shower.

Dinner was a quiet affair and once the twins had gone upstairs with her following to tuck them into bed, they had asked her about her day and she explained about her new job helping the other Runway magazines. When they asked of Andy was happy about the job, she'd shrugged and said she wasn't sure since she'd advised the brunette that they would talk about it another time. When their eyes met across her, she'd looked at them and seen Cassidy's concern and Caroline's disbelief so urged them for answers to their reaction.

"You should have spoken to Andy," Cassidy stated.

"Yeah, she's a part of our life now and these things should be talked about." Caroline pursed her lips.

"And why's that, Bobbsey?" Miranda asked.

"It's a decision that doesn't just affect you, mommy." Cassidy rolled her eyes.

"You should have understood how hurt Andy would be. especially if afterwards you gave her the usual "not now". Caroline explained.

"You just dismissed her, practically in the same way you use "that's all". Cassidy reiterated.

 _What was I thinking?_ Miranda thought. _I'm such an idiot._

She pressed her lips to her daughters' heads. "How did you two get so smart?"

"We leant from the best," Cassidy replied.

"Yeah, daddy." Caroline quipped.

Miranda snorted a bark of laughter. "I'm sure."

"You have to make her stay with us," Cassidy whispered. "She loves us, mommy."

"Why don't you just marry her?" Caroline pronounced. "That way she'll never leave."

**xxx**

Now, having settled on the sofa in her study, she sat close to the brunette, needing to be near her as she held her good hand and let her thumb run over the smooth skin. Miranda knew she needed to talk to Andy about what had happened that day, but had no idea how to start the conversation.

"I'm sorry for leaving this afternoon," Andy stated quietly. "I was–it was an overwhelming day." She exhaled a shaky breath. "Dealing with Irv and then Jacqueline was bad, but then–Christian–"

"I wasn't responsible for Irv and Jacqueline's downfall, that was solely on them." Miranda found herself needing to explain herself. "Although advising the police where Jacqueline would be was necessary, since I found I wanted her embarrassed publically. Christian Thompson, however, deserved to be brought down a peg or two."

"Why blacklist him though, Miranda? Why did you even care enough to bother going to those lengths?" Andy asked. "I used to think those kinds of threats were nothing more than intimidation tactics. I didn't seriously believe an editor would have the power to singlehandedly ruin a career in such a way."

"I understand I perhaps I showed a side of myself, that may be unappealing to you, but I need you to understand, no matter what happens between us, I could not do that to you." Miranda declared. "And there is just one reason I cared to do it today," Miranda alleged. "You, Andy. He disrespected you by discussing your night together with others." She felt her frustration growing. "His discourtesy was unwarranted and his claim you were putty in his hands, I mean, seriously, what was he thinking?"

"I didn't enjoy–I faked it." The words were blurted out and turning, Miranda saw that Andy was blushing. She found herself searching the expressive hazel eyes and seeing the truth in her embarrassment. "We were–well, you know, and I just wasn't feeling it and wanted it to be over, so I–"

"Rushed him along by pretending to climax?" Miranda interrupted.

Andy's blush deepened. "Yeah."

"That will not be a problem when we–" The unconscious words tripped from her tongue and she grew flustered.

 _What on Earth was I thinking?_ Miranda thought, cursing herself for saying such a thing when they had not yet spoken of such intimacies.

"I can't wait to find out," Andy admitted with a low, nervous chuckle. "But before we even consider that step, we need to talk about Runway."

"What about it?" Miranda asked, her concern growing.

"If–no, when this hits the press, and they find out I'm staying with you, it could make things difficult," Andy spoke nervously and Miranda's concern increased. "So I've decided to resign. I won't put your job at risk and–"

"You can't leave." Miranda sputtered. "You have not yet seen out your year and–and what if I told you my new contract does not forbid me from forming a relationship with a subordinate?" She queried.

"It wouldn't make a difference," Andy explained. "If we continue this we need to do so as equals, and working for you, as much as I love it, would be too hard. How would we separate work from home if I live–uh–stay here?"

"What will you do?" Miranda asked.

"Rumour has it there's a job at the New York Mirror coming up in the next few weeks. They're looking for a junior reporter." Andy shrugged. "I can't work right now due to my broken thumb and since I'll be in a cast for up to six weeks, I can't even hold a pen to take notes." She shook her head. "What use am I going to be to you, Miranda?"

"Your use to me is not simply based on your ability to take legible notes or draw those exquisite little sketches that cover the pages of your notebooks." Miranda smiled softly at the surprise in Andy's eyes. "Would you at least stay to assist in finding and training a suitable replacement?" She sighed.

"Yeah, I suppose so." Andy agreed. "So, now you know of my decision, what happens now?" She asked hesitantly.

"We wait for your time to be up, for you get the job at the Mirror and then we go public," Miranda stated.

"You think I'll get it?" Andy asked.

"They'd be idiots not to hire you and I shall tell them so." Miranda found herself laughing when Andy pretended to be offended and struck her thigh lightly before chuckling.

Miranda pulled Andy close, her arm wrapping around her shoulder until her head was resting against her shoulder. They sat together, in this simple yet comfortable embrace for some time.

Andy eventually broke the silence. "When we go public, the press will crucify you."

"In all seriousness, darling, I don't want to hide you away like you are some dirty little secret to be ashamed of and–well, I do not care what people say about me. The girls agree that going public is for the best and they have made it known to me, in no uncertain terms, that they wish for you to remain with us forever." Miranda sighed softly, her mind running over Caroline's words.

**_"Why don't you just marry her? That way she'll never leave."_ **

It was far too early to declare marriage as her intention for their future, although the thought of having the brunette as her spouse was vastly pleasurable.

Andy had voiced her concern, in the hotel room before they'd left Paris, asking if Miranda was sure a relationship with her was what she truly wanted. She had sincerely hoped her words had offered reassurances, and yet there had been some further insecurities expressed since, by them both.

She desperately wanted to explain things from her perspective. "You realise I am not particularly good at this–" She fumbled for words. "–communicating in relationships, but I need you to know, despite all we have spoken of since that night in the hospital, there was a small part of me that worried you would realise a middle-aged woman with two children is not what you wanted, or that you were too young to be tied down. I feared, if it wasn't the cook or Thompson, it would be someone else that snatched you away from me." She admitted. "I have lost things in the past and recovered, but losing you, after this, well, I know I would not recover from it easily." She pulled back slightly and caught Andy's eyes. "I don't want us to fail at this. Despite what I said in Paris, my advice that I wouldn't invest in a relationship that would only fail, it is far too late for that, Andy. I am invested." She pushed herself forward and pressed her mouth against Andy's slightly parted lips.

It was simply meant to be another chaste kiss, to show she meant what she had said, to provide reassurances that she wanted exactly what Andy did.

That's what she kept telling herself anyway, even as she continued to drive her lips urgently against Andy's, deepening the contact she had initiated until the tips of their tongues touched and she moaned.

Kissing Andy was not like any kiss she'd experienced before. Passionate yet tender, it felt wonderful and she couldn't quite believe her luck, that this beautiful, sensitive, wonderfully impossible human wanted her and returned her feelings. It was obvious from the way she cupped her jaw with the palm of her good hand, while her long fingers tangled in the hair behind her ear and how she whimpered almost unconsciously when their tongues touched. She could hear her heartbeat thundering in her ears and feel the rapid fluttering of Andy's pulse where her fingertips rested against her neck, as she held her lightly, careful of the bruising that had formed.

Desire coiled in her stomach as Andy's arm tightened around her, pulling her firmly against her as she soaked up the softness of the brunette's lips with an appetite she'd never experienced before. She had never been as consumed in a kiss, she had never before felt a kiss so deeply.

Eventually, Andy pulled back, taking a deep breath and offering her a wide, beaming smile. "God, you're so beautiful." She expelled a breath. "You are such a great kisser, Miranda, and I adore how your lips feel on mine." She smiled softly. "And now, I have serious bragging rights."

How's that?" Miranda queried breathlessly.

"I can say I've kissed the most beautiful woman on Earth." Andy grinned.

**xxx**

The following morning, after sharing a relaxed breakfast with Andy and the twins, Miranda walked into Runway with the brunette following two steps behind.

She wasn't oblivious to the sight of Emily's jaw-dropping upon them entering the outer office together and realising no instructions were being issued, nor any notes taken by the second assistant because of the large cast on her right hand.

She noticed how Emily's eyes roved over Andy's light-grey chino-clad legs and over-sized navy and white floral print shirt as she shrugged out of her coat and dropped it onto the redhead's desk. When Miranda moved into her office, she cocked her head upon hearing the low hiss of words aimed at her second assistant, turned–whatever.

"What on Earth do you think you are wearing, Andréa?" Emily hissed. "You look ridiculous in men's clothes."

"Oh, bite me, Emily," Andy responded. "I'm over your shitty opinions about my fashion choices as if your judgment is the one that matters."

Miranda knew it was very much an Andy day, and the force of her answer showed it. That morning, she had helped the brunette find something, not only comfortable but also suited her identity as Andy. It had been an unexpected start to her day, filled with awkward laughter as Andy insisted she could dress and clumsily working two buttons fastened, in the wrong buttonholes, before Miranda had swatted her hands away and fixed her shirt front.

Each item of clothing in the closet of her guest bedroom had been selected with the utmost care in the final hours of their time in Paris. The previous morning, having dealt with Irv and given Emily instructions, she had researched local, sustainable fashion aimed at people who identified as non-binary and found Kirrin Finch, based out of Brooklyn. She'd entrusted Lucia into gathering an array of items from them in Andy's sizes and having them delivered to the townhouse.

She adored the shirts provided, they had been specifically designed to fit a woman's body, and yet there were none of the usual darts to enhance her natural curves nor the usual box pleats which made shirts bunch up in the back. There would be no ill-fitting menswear for Andy, especially no gaping shirt front over her bust. She had specifically chosen clothing that would make Andy feel confident as she navigated and expressed her gender identity and she would not have Emily, nor any other person within Runway, say anything negative about it.

"Emily," Miranda called out softly to the redhead. When the redhead hobbled into the room and stood awkwardly waiting for instruction, Miranda looked her over critically, taking in the Yves Saint Laurent vintage, chartreuse taffeta Gypsy skirt and simple black, off the shoulder top. Her eye makeup was green and heavy but accentuated her eyes. "Emily, it seems I have two assistants currently incapable of fulfilling their duties in their entirety. Andréa will be leaving us shortly and in the interim, she will be working closely with Human Resources to secure suitable replacements."

"Replacements?" The question came unbidden and Emily's eyes widened in surprise at her boldness.

"Yes. It has come to my attention that Nigel will be stepping away from his role as Creative Director to take up the presidency at James Holt International. After the events in Paris, I firmly believe Jocelyn is the most suitable candidate to step into his shoes, which means, you will be moved to the art department and become the new Jocelyn." Miranda paused. "Do not disappoint me, Emily."

"Yes, Miranda–I mean, no, Miranda–" Emily exhaled a shaky breath. "–I won't disappoint you."

"One word of warning, Emily," Miranda stated cooly. "If I hear one word of derision against anyone not conforming to what you perceive are the correct fashion choices based on stereotypical masculinity and femininity, I will assume you are not truly passionate about fashion and act accordingly."

"But–but I–" Emily stuttered.

"What we need to do, is ensure fashion is as inclusive behind the scenes, as it is in front of the camera or on the runway. Gender identity and gender presentation may be somewhat interlinked but they are not the same. How a person dresses and presents themselves is often a tool to navigate the world in which they feel they do not fit, and for you or anyone else to invalidate that, is inexcusable." Miranda instructed. "Especially when it's often more socially acceptable, to dress in a way that matches people's expectations." She wondered if the redhead truly understood what she was trying to say and seeing confusion, attempted to explain further. "You, for example, assigned as a female at birth, dress to enhance your femininity. and yet, with your petite frame, you would look rather splendid dressed in a more androgynous or masculine style."

"I–I would?" Emily queried breathlessly.

"Yes, you would." Miranda could easily imagine it. "You would look sublime in Dolce and Gabbana's new fitted, embossed blazer and pants."

"Oh wow." Emily's eyes held stunned disbelief. "So, if Nigel came to work tomorrow with a full face of make-up and a Chanel dress, claiming he was a woman?"

Miranda's lips twitched up as she imagined her old friend wearing the Chanel LBD from their upcoming season. "We would not argue the fact and insist wearing a dress does not make him a woman. The fact he has a hairy chest and 5 o'clock shadow does not necessarily mean he's a man if he does not identify as such." She knew she'd never gone to such lengths to explain things, but it was a necessary lesson for the Brit. "Clothes do not have a gender identity, Emily, but people do and what they wear does not tell you what their gender is or how they see themselves. We need to respect that, is that understood?"

"Yes, Miranda," Emily whispered.

"Andréa has the instructions for the day." Miranda flicked her wrist dismissively. "That's all."

**xxx**

Word had gotten around about Miranda's words to Emily and the following days saw the people of Runway foregoing their usual fashion choices to experiment with their attire. This included Nigel arriving for the run-through the day after Miranda's chat with Emily, wearing a 100% Cashmere Fringe Cardigan with a contrasting cream trim from Chanel's 2005 season. It wasn't the original LBD from 1926, but it offered a beautifully feminine touch to his attire.

A few people had taken it upon themselves to nervously ask Andy about her preferred pronouns, not wanting to offend her by misgendering her, as she continued to dress more androgynous leaning towards the masculine and she explained she would continue to use she/her even if she didn't feel like a woman all the time. She explained that she didn't feel the need to change her pronouns to be content with who she was and on the odd days she surprised everyone by wearing more feminine attire.

Miranda was pleased. She had always prided herself on Runway being an inclusive environment, and her staff's ability to embrace the changes in Andy was helping the brunette's self-esteem. Everyone had reverted to calling her Andy which made her even more comfortable in her exploration of who she was.

Miranda had been toying with the idea of creating an issue on gender-neutral fashions, knowing that Burberry, Gucci, Acne Studios, Zara, HM, and Asos had all launched unisex collections over the previous years. And yet, all these collections often consisted of was oversized basics and loose silhouettes in neutral colours that suited both genders. The collections included T-shirts, hoodies, and baggy jeans, all of which were divided under the usual gender categories and sizes.

She experienced profound hopelessness over the clothing that leaned towards the masculine, the ill-fitting button-ups with their large wide sleeves, shoulder seams that sat in the wrong spot and the extra fabric gathering in the arms and around the waist. Worse still were the hip-hugging pants that bulged incongruously in all the wrong areas. Finding items for men that leaned to the feminine seemed an impossibility. They were virtually non-existent.

None of what she'd found inspired her and resentful of how singled out those looking for suitable clothing would feel, Miranda reached out to Donatella, Valentino and James Holt to gather their opinions. Each of them, in different ways, told her it was troublesome for many designers since it meant changing the way the industry did things. It would mean making clothes to fit a body rather than having the usual mannequin or model that fit the clothes.

"Am I reaching for the stars?" Miranda muttered to Nigel as Andy, dressed in a pair of blue plaid cigarette pants and another beautifully fitting shirt with a matching plaid vest and blue derby oxfords, began firing off instructions to the new Emily and caught her attention. "Why is finding suitable _branded_ clothing such an impossibility unless some celebrity requests it made especially for an event? The only one seemingly able to provide for me is Alessandro Michele at Gucci and there are so many garish florals it frankly sets my teeth on edge."

"Why is this bothering you so much, Miranda?" Nigel asked.

"Because I care about her." Miranda nodded her head to the outer office, her eyes still on the brunette beauty who stood looking over the new assistant's shoulders and dictating her new responsibilities to her.

"You care about her?" Nigel reiterated. "Our Six?"

"Yes, is that so hard to believe? Miranda demanded.

"Are you sure it's not more?" Nigel asked hesitantly.

"I–" Miranda faltered. it had been a long time since she had been so open and vulnerable with her old friend. "–I love her, Nigel." She admitted. "I want her to be comfortable and confident in who she is and how she expresses herself. I want her to be the one to help me show my children that it is okay to identify as they need and to have pride in who they are, regardless of if it's their gender or sexual identity that makes them differ from their peers."

"How can you love her?" Nigel asked. "Is it because she's gender–whatever?" He squinted in confusion as he fired the questions at her quickly. "I recognise she's leaning towards the masculine these days." He stated.

"Of course not. You of all people should know that her identifying as _gender-fluid_ –" She emphasised the words. "–isn't even a consideration." Miranda tore her eyes away from the outer office and glared at her oldest friend. "I know sometimes gender is confusing and messy but you, more than most, should understand how someone identifies and how they choose to dress is not at all important." She insisted. "Her style doesn't define who she is, it is her actions, the person she is."

"I've been dressing her for months and she's never said anything," Nigel responded glumly.

"Have you ever taken the time to ask or tried to speak to her about her preferences?" Miranda asked. "Have you spoken to her of these changes?"

Nigel shook his head. "No." He admitted. "She told me she loved the gown I chose for her for that first benefit then asked if it would fit." He sighed. "I told her a little Crisco and some fishing line and we'd be in business."

Miranda rolled her eyes at Nigel's words. "You know, while we were in Paris, she admitted she has times she is not comfortable in herself and she feels her name does not suit her, which is why she insists upon being called Andy. She advised me she prefers to dress in pants and a shirt rather than dresses or skirts and she still dislikes heels. She doesn't particularly wish to stand out any more than she already does but this is not something she's has felt the freedom to question or express, until now." Miranda asserted. "She is aware I support her without expectation and regardless of what she is wearing any particular day, although I do like the selections. After all, I picked them out."

"You picked–" Nigel rolled his eyes. "–what am I saying, of course, you did. That blue plaid vest and pant ensemble seems eerily familiar although I'm not familiar with the designer."

Miranda smirked. "Did you believe yours was one of a kind or that you are the only one to pull such a thing off?"

Nigel laughed. "At least her suit matches her cast."

**xxx**

The weeks passed quickly, with the two new Emily's proving they weren't totally incompetent under Andy's tutelage. It allowed Emily to move on and take Jocelyn's place in the art department once Nigel left with much fanfare and a party worthy of the fifteen years he'd given Runway.

Miranda had celebrated with Nigel, staying an hour longer than she normally would before pulling him into a warm hug and kissing his cheeks and with a small, genuine smile, wishing him well at James Holt and promising to organise lunch once he was settled into his new role.

Her lawyers were working at fast-tracking the divorce since Stephen had applied for it under New York's no-fault laws due to the irretrievable breakdown of the marriage. It was uncontested since Stephen claimed he wanted nothing from the dissolution of the marriage contract and the prenup she'd had her legal team draw up before their marriage was iron-clad. Although she was aware he had cheated, she didn't want to bring it up and put the fault firmly at his door since it would simply delay the proceedings. She had also ensured Stephen stayed away from her by organising a dozen pairs of shoes to be delivered to his new apartment and then having a restraining order issued against him.

Once life at Runway had settled down, the time came for Andy to finally leave, and to Miranda, it was a moment far more bittersweet than Nigel or Emily having moved on. She couldn't quite imagine looking out to her outer office and no longer seeing her bright smile, yet she knew she'd have it each morning before heading to Runway and once she returned home each evening. It was something she would continue to savour within her personal life.

She knew Andy would succeed in her new role as a junior reporter once it started the following month and she had absolute faith that she would prove to Greg Hill, as she had with her, that she was worth her weight in gold.

They had somehow managed to keep their relationship under wraps, with Nigel being the only one to be told directly. And although Roy and Cara came to know of the changes between them rather quickly, since Andy was staying at the townhouse, she trusted them implicitly not to breathe a word. Miranda and Andy had both already guessed Serena had an inkling something was going on between them but they both knew the Brazilian would not dare ask either of them nor was she the type to gossip.

Andy's biggest fear was that Emily would see the changes and start to freak out. She was sure to cause a scene, that was a given.

Miranda loved the time they were spending together. There was something about the way Andy held her close when they cuddled watching movies, or how she occasionally held her hand, that was comforting. When walking side by side down the sidewalk, she always took the position beside the road. It was charming, chivalrous and unexpected. Being with her felt exquisite. It seemed natural and comfortable and their time together each evening saw them learning more about one another and sharing themselves fully.

They continued to enjoy make-out sessions, which had grown increasingly harder to stop once they started, and they more often than not slept in each other's arms, but no move had been made to take the next step.

Working on the book, so they could spend some uninterrupted time together while the twins were with their father for the weekend, Miranda was stunned when Andy voiced a fear she had not been aware of.

"Miranda?" Andy breathed her name, catching her attention.

"Yes, darling?" Miranda looked up and smiled softly at the brunette hovering in the doorway of her study.

"I–uh–" Andy stammered. "–what if, when we finally–you know–what if I can't?"

Miranda closed the book and standing, moved around her desk and sat on the sofa they'd spent hours making out on. She held her hand out to her. "Come." She watched Andy step closer on bare feet. Her legs were bare up to her mid-thigh, a pair of cotton shorts covered the rest of them. Taking Andy's hand in hers, she tugged her down beside her. "Now, explain." She breathed. "Preferably in English."

"Well, I was thinking, I spent my formative years, including puberty, being socialised as–well, as female so I'm worried I won't know how to be–" Andy exhaled shakily. "–uh, physically intimate or what role to take."

"I'll continue to be Miranda and you'll just be Andy," Miranda stated softly. "It is as simple as that. It's not rocket science, darling." Her lips twitched. "Or is that also something you are familiar with alongside string theory."

Andy giggled and Miranda's heart swelled with joy at the sound. "No, I'm no aerospace engineer." She giggled again.

"I'm sure you could be, if you put your mind to it, darling," Miranda smirked. "You can do anything, right?"

"I can," Andy sighed. "Simply because you believe in me."

Miranda shifted until her back faced the arm of the chair and stretched her legs out before parting them and patting the space between her thighs. She knew Andy understood what she wanted and the brunette settled quickly. Miranda ran her fingers through the long, damp tresses, snagging them at times within the tangles. "What else concerns you, darling?" She asked, taking the hair-tie from Andy's wrist and starting to braid her hair.

"Do you need me to take on a more dominant role?" Andy whispered.

"We do not need to assign the usual heteronormative roles to our relationship, Andréa, or be dictated to by society's expectations." Miranda continued to twine the strands of silken hair together deftly. "As you know, I live in my heels, makeup, jewellery and beautiful clothes and yet I lead an army of people daily, I have a power far greater than some men and I am paid accordingly. And then there is you, you will be perceived as the "man" in our relationship, simply because of the way you express yourself on occasion, and yet you are far more nurturing than I, you are the one more likely to cook us a meal, bake a cake or clean up after us." She sighed. "This relationship is not defined by our gender, gender expression, or sexuality, darling nor should it be."

She tied the ends of the braid and tugged it slightly so Andy's head tilted back. Smirking down into expressive hazel eyes, she bent her head and pressed her lips against Andy's.

Andy turned so she was straddling her lap and as they continued to kiss, her hands moved into the hair at the nape of Miranda's neck.

Miranda moaned softly as the whisper of Andy's lips left hers.

"So just Andy?" Andy asked.

"Yes, darling." Miranda smiled softly at her and heard Andy's breath catch. "Just Andy and all that encompasses the beautiful human you are." She let her face settle into its usual countenance to show her seriousness. "There does not need to be a male or female, nor a dominant or submissive in this relationship. We will learn from each other and what we do, behind the closed doors of our bedroom, well, it will be an experience for us both to share and learn from."

"Just in our bedroom." Andy teased as her mouth pressed hotly against the pulse point at her neck.

She felt the brunette's tongue press against the sensitive skin and gasped.

"What about right here or in the kitchen or perhaps I could spread you out on the dining room table?" The whispered words breathed teasingly against the shell of her ear had her desire rising and her panties growing damp.

"Oh, Andréa," Miranda moaned. "How did I ever think I could resist you? What was I thinking?"

Andy chuckled. "That I was an unfashionable mess." She pulled back. "Surely you remember my cerulean sweater." She reminded her with a wry grin. "I could dig it out if you have."

Miranda laughed joyfully. "Okay, okay, I'll amend my statement." She continued to smile. "What were _you_ thinking?" She teased, pushing Andy back slightly, her lips pressed against Andy's again. "Take me to bed, darling."

**xxx**

Miranda was focussed on creating a pleasurable experience for Andy as her hands wandered, tugging at the shorts and thin cotton T-shirt she wore until she was naked.

Her touch remained light and careful and her eyes watched Andy for any signs of discomfort. She found none, instead, she noticed how Andy's eyes darkened as her desire took hold of her and she listened to the small gasps, moans and whimpers that emitted from deep within her.

She wanted this to be a beautiful experience for them both, a celebration in the truest sense. She wanted it to be something that stuck with them for the rest of their lives as a wonderful memory, the moment they cemented the love and the growing trust between them. More than anything, Miranda wanted Andy to feel empowered, to know she respected her in all ways. She wanted Andy to love herself and to see that she desired her more than anything.

In each gentle touch and caress, she communicated this as best she could. Her hand trailed over Andy's hips and she squirmed under her. Seeing apprehension in Andy's eyes, Miranda stopped and pulled her hands away.

Andy swallowed nervously. "No penetration." She whispered pleadingly.

The plea broke Miranda's heart a little. "I won't ever do anything you are not comfortable with, Andy. You simply have to tell me." She responded seriously. She had known, in certain circumstances, things may trigger dysphoria but the last thing she wanted was for the brunette to feel uncomfortable in their shared intimacy. "What do you need, darling?"

Andy leaned up and fumbled with the buttons of Miranda's blouse. "You naked." She struggled due to the cast she still wore.

"Here, let me." Miranda insisted.

Andy lay back and popped her hands behind her head, watching intently with a soft smile as Miranda unhooked each button with nimble fingers before sliding the blouse off her shoulders and letting it pool behind her. Her bra followed, dropping and landing at her knees. Twisting awkwardly, she unfastened the button and zip of her trousers and lifted herself so she could pull them free. Her panties were pushed down and off before both were kicked away.

The removal of her clothes was in no way graceful but she didn't want to pull away entirely to undress and lose some of the intimacy between them.

Miranda was confident when dressed in her couture, but being naked left her feeling vulnerable. She held her hand against her stomach covering the cesarean scar and faint stretch marks that showed she had carried her daughter's.

Andy pulled her hand away, gazing at her, almost in wonder. She found reassurance in her eyes and taking a deep breath let herself be seen. "You are so beautiful, Miranda," She stated breathlessly.

"As are you, darling," Miranda replied, returning the words emphatically, hoping Andy would see the truth of them.

"C'mere," Andy held her arms open.

Miranda inched her way into the circle of them until she was lying, partly sprawled over the brunette and partly on the mattress, her leg thrown over Andy's hip. "Is this okay?" She queried.

For an answer, Andy tilted her chin up and pecked her softly. "It's perfect. You are perfect, my love." She breathed.

Miranda's hands began their caressing movement again, cautious and gentle even as she applied varying pressure to the skin under her fingertips and palms.

Andy gasped as goosebumps rose over her sensitive skin and leaned in to kiss her more forcefully and passionately.

Her heart leapt in her chest and she kissed her back with just as much passion, loving how soft, and hungry Andy's lips were. She moved her hand between Andy's thighs, but instead of stroking over her mound, she positioned her leg until it was bent, her food firmly situated against the mattress and she moved her fingertips against the soft, pale skin at the back of her thighs. The soft moans that followed her caress made her euphoric. She wanted Andy to feel good. Her other hand rose to Andy's throat and her fingertips trailed down her suprasternal notch.

"How do you know where to touch me?" Andy panted.

"Ssh–" Miranda hushed. "–just enjoy." She breathed, still pressing kisses to Andy's lips and jaw as she spoke. "Your body is yours, it carries your beautiful heart within it, and it deserves to be worshipped and respected."

Andy's leg fell to the side, still bent, and Miranda turned her into her side and moved more fully towards her, lying on her side between them. Andy pulled her closer and drew her leg more fully over the curve of her hip so they were breast to breast.

"Are you sure about this?" Miranda asked, looking up into Andy's eyes seeking reassurance.

"Oh God, yes." Andy breathed, pulling Miranda closer still.

She started moving slowly so that their pussies, and their clits rubbed against each other. It was heaven on earth and as she looked up into the most beautiful eyes in the world, she saw the passion and love held in them. Andy was hers, for all time and she knew it. She was in love. She saw the beauty of her, a staggering beauty that surpassed anything she'd encountered before.

Miranda was determined to do everything she could to bring Andy pleasure. Pressing down harder, she continued to make love to the beautiful soul with abandon. Her eyes lowered and she found herself admiring the way Andy's hard nipples brushed against hers. She was so turned on, simply by her making love to her. She leaned in and planted soft, sweet kisses all over her face until their lips met. She kissed her unhurriedly, not wanting to rush her towards her climax. Her hands kneaded the warm, smooth skin of her back, rubbing and massaging it sensuously. "I love you," Miranda murmured.

"I love you too," Andy whispered. "So much."

Miranda's hold tightened and the indescribable feelings it brought out in her left her feeling reborn. Her soul cried out for the perfect human moving against her. She knew she loved Andy more than she would ever truly be able to express, although she would try.

Her eyes fell closed and she felt \Andy's exquisite body pressing against hers as she moved against her. Her hand moved down her back to her soft yet firm backside and she pulled it towards her body, thrusting down harder and rolling her hips and succeeding in earning a soft whimper in return. Andy's clit danced against hers and she felt the magic of the touch. deep within her, increasing her appetite to continue making love until neither of them could move an inch.

Their kisses grew harder as she pressed herself even tighter to Andy, grinding with a mixture of tenderness and need. There was a softness and strength in the movement that she'd never expected. It was unbelievable. She was going to make this magnificent creature come. It was an awe-inspiring feeling to be able to provide her with so much pleasure.

She could sense Andy's climax building momentum as the soft moaning stopped and she grew so tense, her back arched, her vocal cords not able to produce any sound at all. She started trembling tremble and her mouth opened into the perfect O until she relaxed and falling back onto the mattress, sighed.

It was all too much to take in. Andy's beautiful face, the softness of her lips, the warm skin against hers, her firm ass, her wet pussy, the arched back. She inhaled deeply, held her breath as she teetered on the edge of her orgasm, then let loose a loud cry as her body finally succumbed to the pleasure and intensity of the moment.

It took some for her brain to catch up to the low muttering between each kiss that was pressed against her cheeks and lips.

– beautiful

– sensuous

– brilliant

– perfection

It was the last adjective that had Miranda pulling away from Andy's warm embrace. "I am far from perfect." She sniffed.

"You are to me, my love." Andy maintained. "Fuck, you're stunning when you come."

She couldn't fathom why Andy was moving closer until she was hovering over her, but then she returned to kissing her for a moment, her good hand moving up to stroke her cheek gently. She settled between her legs, her head resting against her left breast as a soft smile toyed at her lips. She turned her head to place a kiss against her breast before taking her nipple into her mouth and sucking it lightly. Miranda was instantly so ridiculously turned on, the need for Andy clawed at her insides and yet no further move was made. Her nipple was released and Andy settled once more.

She looked down into dark eyes sparkling with happiness and love and was overjoyed. There was a small part of her that knew she was not in charge of pleasing Andy, instead, Andy's clear intention was to provide her with pleasure also. When she'd allowed herself to imagine sex with Andy, she'd been sure she would prefer being on top, simply because she knew she had some control issues. How wrong she had been. She was content to allow Andy to have the freedom to take her as she wanted - when she wanted.

She tried to calm her raging hormones and to concentrate on the feeling of having Andy sprawled on top of her, settled happily between her thighs. She wondered idly if Andy found it frustrating to lie like this, in the missionary position, but not have a penis. She kept the thought to herself but knew she would probably voice the question at a later date.

She felt the brunette relax and make a happy little humming sound at the back of her throat when she ran her fingers through her mane. In no time at all, Andy was sleeping peacefully, letting out little puffs of breath. She felt remarkably at peace, safe and warm with the long-limbed, remarkable human pressed against her.

"I said to myself, take a chance, hire the smart, fat girl," Miranda repeated the words she'd offered Andy almost six months before. "What was I thinking?" She whispered to the universe. "I'm such a fucking idiot."

Andy's arms tightened around her. "You're my idiot though, so shuddup an' sleep."

"Yes, Andy," Miranda smirked and shook her head before closing her eyes.

**Fin**


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